


A Collection of Correspondence

by ferrisulich



Series: The Dagroth's Devouring [2]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work
Genre: Backstory, Love Letters, M/M, Pen Pals, Pre-Campaign, Prince and Guard, two bros sitting in a hot tub 5 feet apart cuz they're not gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:41:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 52
Words: 69,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24918514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ferrisulich/pseuds/ferrisulich
Summary: A series of letters exchanged between Prince Oslo Bjornvak and his captain of the royal guard, Wilhelm Tyldree.AKA: me and my player take turns writing love letters to each other
Relationships: Oslo Bjornvak/Wilhelm Tyldree
Series: The Dagroth's Devouring [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1697272
Kudos: 12





	1. A Missive for the Prince

Your Highness, Prince Bjornvak

It has come to my attention that you are under the impression that I hold dislike towards your person. I feel myself duty bound to dismiss these claims, for it would be a dishonor upon my knighthood to you to uphold this belief. I must admit our first meeting was not what I had expected, and I might have acted outwards, but I had by no means meant to inspire distrust in the utmost respect I hold of your person. In fact, if I may write this in total confidentiality, I found your demotion of Sir McMaster rightfully attributed considering the comments he made about the indiscretions of the Minister of Internal Affairs and her handmaiden. He may be my brothers in arms, but we are by no mean brothers at heart, and the clear dislike that might have painted my features in that moment, were in no way due to you. I, a curse of my mother, often wear my heart on my sleeve, and my distaste on my face. To speak ill of those who wish to pursue love outside their station, especially will mal intent, will always, in my eyes, deserve rightful punishment.

As for my comment on the sparring field, I express my deepest apologies if you believed them targeted at you. I understand and respect your position and responsibilities as prince. In fact, I admire your wit and skill when disarming an opponent with your words. I have yet to meet a soldier with the bravery you show when facing down the prejudices of the court towards the color of your skin. Never, was it my intention to undermine the efforts and challenges you have faced to reach your current status. I spoke only of, and to, the newest recruits of the civil guard who found it fit to bypass the regulatory testing and training by invoking their status in the nobility. For you to have overheard alone casts a great shadow upon my name. Though my position amongst the Naeve allows me unprecedented liberty to criticize the upper class of which I have never had the displeasure of being apart of, these words should have only reached those intended. The consequences of these claims I will burden if you see fit to seek retribution for the pain they have inflicted.

Finally, I would like to sincerely apologize for the way in which I spoke to you on the day of the Hunt with Lord Desirus and the civil council delegates. It is my duty, as proudly as I wear this uniform, to insure your safety and health. To have seen you fall and refuse to surrender the hunt when injured angered me beyond reason. I had thought you a logical man, and yet you would put your pride before the good an heir brings to a nation. I now understand that the political undertones of the affair would determine the outcome of the treaty you were drawing to found the medical guild for the eastern territories. Your success was vital to dealing with a man as callous as Desirus. You must excuse my own callousness then, for I now see where your true loyalty lies; with the good of the civilians of the Isles. Never should I have doubted it, and yet I did. For that, I will understand if you find it more agreeable to see your personal retinue changed.

I never meant for disagreement to take root, and I do wish you will one day be able to trust me, as I now know to trust you. If you find yourself in the impossibility to do so, then please take this as my formal request for transfer.

I hope your ankle heals in the briefest of delays.

My sword, mind and soul are yours,

Sir Wilhelm Tyldree


	2. An Answer from the Reagent

Sir Wilhelm Tyldree, Captain of the Naeve and most honourable of my retinue,

I received your letter but a fortnight ago, and yet have found that replying comes with the utmost difficulty. Indeed, it seems you have put me in a rather tight spot, if you don’t mind my saying. On one hand, to have my most loyal and duty bound personal guard apologize to me for simply doing his job and existing requires me to put his mind at ease and reassure him that he has under no circumstances slighted me in the least, and that my expressions and mannerisms in the moment might have given the impression of dislike that, I assure you, is simply inexistent. On the other hand, to explain why I might have reacted with such annoyance or frustration necessitates revealing sensitive information about myself that I would much rather keep hidden away forever. However, I feel it is in my duty to you Sir Wilhelm as your Prince and charge that I reveal these embarrassing personal failings to you so as to facilitate your return to a simpler mind devoid of any and all guilt.

Now, I could dawdle on the reasons that led me to act in such childish ways, but I feel you have important matters to attend to as Captain of the Naeve, so I will attempt to make this as short as possible. You see, to put it bluntly, I seem to lack trust. It is a hard truth to admit to oneself but it is one that I have sadly come to recognize in my patterns when interacting with others. I simply seem single-minded about depending on myself and only myself, without needing aid from the outside world. Usually, especially in court, this is a valued quality. A noble who can not be persuaded through his entourage or blackmailed by targeting his most cherished loved ones? Truly an impenetrable fortress. However, it has come to my attention that, while this may lead to prosperous political plans and valued conversations with important figureheads, in the real world, trust is as valuable as the very gold I adorn myself with. Gold which I seem to remember has caught your wandering eye on more than one occasion might I add, to my narcissistic delight of course. But understand then how confused I might be when one of the Naeve assigned to my retinue starts to seemingly truly care for my well-being, for the arguments and points I bring to my usual sociopolitical debates with the Isles' nobility and military and for my opinion of him. Why, it seemed my mind lost the ability to process it all. To try and reason that there could be someone out there who I could, gods forbid, actually depend on in these trying times has, for all intents and purposes, baffled my brain beyond repair. Thus, my bouts of youthful exasperation and disorientation that you were sorely the victim of and that could have given you the impression of my displeasure. And for that, it is I Wilhelm, who must apologize to you.

I feel now that I must also apologize for lying about the length of this response, as it has been everything but short. Another failing of mine I suppose. However, I truly hope that this letter may set your heart at ease about your actions. It is simply that I am unaccustomed to such spectacles of loyalty and affection. But I will get there if you allow me time.

Thank you for the lovely letter Sir Wilhelm. I am glad to know that I have such a kind-hearted and dutiful man in my corner.

Oslo Bjornvak, Prince of Lathander

P.S.: the ankle is healing just fine, although a few more frequent inspections from the Captain of the Naeve might be required to put my mind at ease. 


	3. A Required Addendum

Dear Prince Bjornvak of Lathander,

I’m sorry to say, as it seems all we do is apologize to one another, that I cannot put this matter to rest. I am elated to know that there lies no ill intent between us, but still find fault in your previous letter I cannot help but address. - If, of course, you might excuse your humble servant for doing so. 

First and foremost, I must admit I was surprised by your admission of error, and must assure you that you have no reason to apologize. Your reaction was perfectly understandable considering the circumstances and my own inexcusable impropriety in those tense moments. I simply seem to forget myself in your presence. I will refrain from apologizing yet again for we might never exit this vicious cycle , so I shall, instead, extend my inexhaustible respect and admiration for your person instead, might it be applicable in any situation where you doubt the sincerity of my claims or the purposes of my actions. I might fumble my words on occasion, or seem rude or put out, but it shall always come from a place of reverence. Your wellbeing is my topmost priority, both my given mission, but also my personal promise to you. Though I hope the occasion never arrises, know that I would not hesitate to bleed for you. With that certainty, I hope that moving forward we may put to rest the incessant apologies and instead rely on the knowledge that if our decisions clash, it is not due to lack of virtue on either part. Or, you could simply take this as an apology in advance, for any future occasion when I might throw you over my shoulder (again, terribly sorry for the events of the Hunt). See? I have already gone back on my word, and here I thought it binding. 

Second, I wish to dispel the notion that your lack of trust is a weakness or a failing of yours. I see perfectly well of handy a decent dose of skepticism comes when facing down an opponent in the throne room. In fact, it is always best to distrust someone you meet across a battlefield, for they are do not stand opposite of your for no reason. However, to be able to trust is the greatest strength of all, and for that claim I am ready to throw my gauntlet. There is no greater force than one that stands united, and loyalty between the ranks of men is gained and perpetuated through the trust they share. To risk one’s life is hard enough knowing the stakes, but to have brothers in arms ready to do the same soothes the soul; it is the promise of company in the long trek down to the underworld. More so, and in less military terms I trust bore you to no end, love cannot blossom without trust. You spoke of love as a means to manipulate another, but there is greatness in being willing to give up a kingdom for someone. Perhaps, if I may speculate this tangential analogy, that person is worth more than the kingdom they rule. More than the gold they wear. 

I did not think your words childish. The thought did not dare cross my mind. To know oneself as well as you, takes a degree of maturity not gained so young. I know this is not my place, but I can’t help but notice the fatigue that plagues you. Though not infantile, I will admit your reactions were not clear minded (and neither were mine, do not mistake this for criticism, I am simply incapable of delicate word play it seems). To carry a kingdom’s worth of responsibility, to shoulder it alone, cannot be restful. Mayhap trust could be of use there too. To have a trusted advisor, or confidant, might help ease the heaviness you bear so well. I would not be as presumptuous as to propose myself. I simply wish to remind your highness of the independent body of the Naeve from the ruling party. I hold no allegiance to anyone but those I choose. All those who wear this shade of sunset does so voluntarily, and because we believe in those in power. I, for it seems I cannot help but write it out, do believe in you. I hope you can find it in yourself to trust me, if no one else.

I will be sure to make more frequent rounds to the royal quarters to assure myself of your full recovery, as is my bound duty, and sincerest pleasure. 

Yours in mind and body,   
Sir Wilhelm Tyldree


	4. An Offer of Partnership

Dear Wilhelm,

I must admit, I was confused yet pleasantly surprised when I discovered your letter in my coat pocket last night. I had thought that my response would have been the end of our correspondence, and that we would have gone back to talking of the war on the Devout in meetings with the Queens or exchanging half-drunken flirtatious banter at festivities, as seems to be our habit since we’ve had the pleasure of meeting. It is therefore with great delight but deep puzzlement that I read your last message. And amongst all of your lovely phrases and swirling sentences, I think I have come to a certain conclusion. You, Sir, are not one to give up a fight. And I must say I commend you for it, for even when I placed blame on myself to cleanse you of your guilt, you somehow still managed to absolve me of all fault, a quality I narcissistically cherish in my close advisors, if you allow me this one flaw. Truly, your elations on the virtue of my person could not have stroked my ego further, and with the such gentle yet calloused hands that I remember from that day of the Hunt, for which, as frustrating as it is, I am still rightly indebted to you.

As for the subject of trust, it seems again that I have underestimated you. Once, I had thought you a simple soldier with a bright mind limited more or less to military strategies and guard duties, albeit with the prowess of impassioned small talk; now, after reading your letters again and again, I find myself in front of a man much wiser than I had previously assessed, seemingly seasoned on the topics of love and faith. And I must concede, although trust will still come slowly, your words have moved me beyond what I had thought them possible of doing, and for the first time in quite the long time, I seem ready to try and confide in others. As for the privileged individual in question who will be the recipient of my trust, in gentle and measured increments of course, I see no other candidates with quite the extensive record of devoting their entire time and effort to my protection and well-being than you. Therefore, as your Prince, I hereby pronounce you, Sir Wilhelm Tyldree, Captain of the Naeve, my official confidant and sociopolitical advisor, if you would accept to help me navigate these ever murky waters and if you don’t mind spending a few more afternoons in my presence. I do recall that in your last letter, in a truly brilliant show of humility and modesty, you abdicated to this position, preferring to appear humble rather arrogant. I commend you for this spectacle of virtue, but I am afraid you are the only person that comes to mind for this title, so you remain my desired choice. Of course, I completely understand if you refuse, the implications and responsibilities of this newfound post possibly too much to bear over the ones you already possess as the Captain of the Naeve. I will remind you however that I am not one to quickly put my faith in people, and if I have examined and assessed you and deemed you worthy of working besides me as my confidant, it is truly a judge of your character as a righteous and good man.

I look forward to our partnership and to your engaging and delightful company on long nights of planning our next move in the war.

Your Prince,

Oslo Bjornvak, Prince of Lathander

P.S.: to clarify one point you seem to have mistaken in your letter, no one is as valuable as the gold I wear, not even Lathander himself. As for the ankle, I am ever grateful that I will have the Captain of the Naeve not only as my advisor, but as my nurse as well. I truly seem to have won on all accounts.


	5. The Beginning of Something

Dear Prince Bjornvak,

I couldn’t very well put the matter to rest when so much was left unsaid. It seems our near drunken banter at festivities was not enough to incite you upon my character after all, though perhaps that is because one of us is tasked with keeping a clear and sober mind even on nights of rejoicements. It would not to well for the captain of the Naeve to behave like a drunken bastard while on duty. Though I must admit, I enjoyed your impression of the Queen Reagent greatly. As for my swirling sentences and lovely phrases, you have my late father to thank for that. He had his blessed heart set on me becoming a poet. My joining of the guard did not exactly do wonders for his health. But I guess, you did peg me right in that esteem. I am not one to back down. I tend to bite off more than I can chew, but rather choke then relinquish my hold. I’m not sure it’s as much of a quality as you seem to believe, but I wont lead you into thinking otherwise. To have your esteem is not a gift I am willing to part with. Quite in the same fashion, I don’t believe enjoying being excused for a fault that isn’t yours is a flaw in the slightest. In fact, I admire your selfless nature. You seem to shoulder much more blame than is quite your own, no matter how well you hide it. As such, do not carry the debt of your life too heavily. It is my duty, one I carry out with conviction of its rightfulness.

Again, for my knowledge of the finer arts, you have my father to thank. A literary genius in his own right, my education in philosophy and languages much surpasses that which was required of me to enter the guard. However, I’m finding these skills quite applicable to the current exchange. He might have been right after all, there is necessity in knowing how to express oneself truthfully. And I truly believe in the change you are trying to instill in the court. I believe you are righteous, and I believe you are true. As such, I gladly accept this new extended title. The responsibility to be myself, is not much of one at all. What you ask, I freely give you, as long as it is offered in return. I am your captain my liege, your loyal servant, but I can be a lot more if you allow me. I think companionable exchange of opinions will not only benefit you, but I as well. I am quick to give out orders, but it has been a long night since I have had someone think of me as their equal. Men in our position are hard pressed to find kin among those we lead. I of course, am not so presumptuous as to equate my place as Captain to the responsibilities of a Prince. Do stop me if I am overstepping, but I believe I am not alone in seeking more than simply trusting the other wont repeat everything said to the nearest servant. Rather, I want to give you my honest opinion, even if it might upset this precarious partnership, as you coined it, and I hope to expect the same of you.

Perhaps we might talk frankly over a mug of ale in a much less open environment than a party. Somewhere safe, closed quarters, where a select group of guards might be enough to ensure your safety while my strategic skills become compromised. Perhaps as partners, confidants, and, if you allow it, maybe as friends.

Yours in body and mind,

Sir Wilhelm Tyldree

PS: I don’t think I’m quite as handy a nurse as you seem to think. By all accounts, the ankle should be healed by now and yet I can’t seem to be satisfied with its recovery. I will come again on the morrow, much to the displeasure of the palace healer, just to be sure.


	6. Renewed Penmanship

Prince Oslo,

I hope this missive finds you well. It has been a while since I have written you a letter. There didn’t seem to be much need to at the castle anymore, not with our frequent evenings spent pouring over the maps. You must have already received my formal report through the appropriate channels about the current unrest at the Front. I write you this as a personal correspondance in addition to that report for a few different reasons. First and foremost, I want to assure you of my safety and of that of the group of wizards we are escorting. We arrived with very little fanfar a week ago, and have only seen small squirmishes from the hill tops so far. The soldiers stationed here are well trained, efficient, but battleworn. It was in the best interest of everyone that I take a small retinue of Naeve to escort the healers, though the thought of leaving you with only a handful of guards weighs heavy on my conscience. I left you the best of my men, who I am sure will complete their duty until their dying breath, but I cannot help the unease I felt leaving you at all. God knows what kinds of messes you will manage in my absence.

I also wanted you to know about the successes this trip has already seen. Our arrival was timed with the attack outside of Fymoor, on the small scouting camp set up there to over see the fortifications brought to the town by the Peninsulas. This won’t be in the reports, seen as it was not an executive action, but a small group of the guild convinced me to let them join the rescue party down to the scouts camp. They were able to save the lives of four men, including a wounded Peninsulas soldier we have taken back for questioning. I believe the insight we will gain from this to be invaluable to the recapturing of Fymoor for the Isles. Your guild is already changing the tides of these battles. I wear your sigil will pride, my Prince.

I’m sorry this is all I have time to write. I am burning the last of the candlelight away, and we leave at dawn tomorrow to continue south. I will write again as soon as we settle at the sight of the military hospital.

Yours,

Wilhelm

PS: I found the custard tarts you saw fit to pack in my belongings without my knowledge. I shared them with the members of the guild one night after a rainy day’s ride, and all were pleased for a taste of home. Thank you.


	7. Happy Prince Happy Life

Wilhelm,

I cannot tell you how rejoiced I was when finally I received your letter from the Front. I had begun to worry the expedition had gone awry and that my guild of healers hath been for naught. I was also simultaneously thinking of my trusted advisor, who against my better judgment, decided to escort these mages to the Front, brilliantly displaying his courage and valour to all. I am, however, positively delighted to know that the guild has been able to help our forces near Fymoor, and that your presence and the Naeve’s by their side, though still not my favoured option, has provided well needed aid and support to them.

As for my lonesome self back in the Isles, why, the guards you have left me with are excruciatingly boring compared to your ever optimistic and sardonic personality. The nights are much longer now that I am alone to minutely memorize and learn the areas and regions near the Front to help us in the war. I will admit though that some of the men are growing on me, particularly Gasbrought and Fidel, who seem to have never-ending stories about your shenanigans and perils training as a soldier in the Naeve, Truly fascinating topics to be shared over drinks after long days of more mindless military mumbling from everyone else. I, for one, never knew you played the bagpipes or sang, much less that you once performed in front of your whole retinue dressed up as all the Mage Queens, I imagine giving life like impressions of each and every one of them. It must have been quite the heavy night of drinking for you to have let yourself go as much as you did Captain Tyldree. I only wish I had been there to witness this surely captivating spectacle with my own eyes, for I would have cherished that memory for the rest of my life. Nevertheless, I digress.

I’m am equally thrilled to hear of this scoundrel we have captured, a living and breathing enemy soldier from the Penninsulas! Now, that is a bounty that I look forward to interrogating. I will have to carefully choose my outfit. Perhaps a drooping black velvet neckline. With gold. Lots of it. Surely that will catch his eye and hopefully force his tongue. The information we could get from him could be crucial to our next move. I must applaud you on that success Wilhelm. I am forever grateful that our paths crossed, for you seem to bring me good fortune after good fortune. As for the sigil you wear, I am glad to know that when you strike down our enemies, a part of me stands ever by you, cheering you on of course.

I await your response with impatience. Do not tardy, for time goes by ever slower without your interventions.

Thank you for believing in what I am trying to accomplish.

Yours truly,

Oslo

P.S.: I knew you’d love the tarts. And I knew you would share them. Ever the generous one.


	8. An Ardent Reply

Dear Prince Olso,

I appreciate your concern for my well being, but I am beginning to think you underestimate my abilities my dear Prince. You should have more trust in my skills, and spend all this time worrying on more fruitful endeavours. I can only imagine the pitiful sight of you gazing out that large bay window in your rooms, watching the horizon for my faithful return. Take up Fidel on his offer to teach you the rapier instead. He mentioned he offered in his last report, and he is only second best to me. Though perhaps its best if he doesn't, gods know what else he'll tell you about my days in the guard...

I blame my father, as I do for everything, for my musical talents. Though the viol was not for me, my skill with the bagpipes are well known in the Naeve. I'm surprised you were not told earlier by other loose-jaw scoundrels. However, if you believe it would amuse you so, I'm sure we can find a bottomless tankard somewhere to get me into the spirits to play once I am back. 

I am overjoyed the prospect of interrogation arouses you so. In fact, I do not know the number you speak of, but I am anxious to see it. I truly wish you stood with me (though an appropriate distance from any actual danger). Your company would surely sooth the aching in my heart for the sight of home. You say my company bring you good luck, but I cannot help but think it is our union in the honour of trust that brings us good fortune. Who is to deny such a pair as us?

Though time speeds by here, the days cannot help but seem long without your wit and repartee,

Yours always,

Wilhelm

PS: Sorry this letter is so short, I write in the dying daylight after a hard day’s ride. We leave before dawn tomorrow, achingly early, but we are making good time trying to catch up on our earlier delays outside Fymoor. We should be at the hospital sight by the end of the week, and home by the end of the month.


	9. If You Will Still Have Me

My Prince,

I'm sure you'll have received word in the official reports but I felt it necessary to write you directly as well to better explained what happened. If I could, I would have told you myself, but with tensions rising high, I am needed here more than ever. There sadly will be no occasion to take your sultry number out of the closet, for the prisoner is dead. I'm not sure how the reports framed it, seen as the death happened under the guard of the soldiers stationed here, but here are the events as they happened, in the spirit of complete honestly.

We were travelling south to the hospital site and had made camp on the eastern bank of a river for the night. The prisoner was still nursing wounds from his capture and one of the healers asked to tend to him. The captain of the platoon we are traveling with refused, but I saw no reason to let the man bleed out. The wounded prisoner would only slow us on the morrow and we were already behind schedule. I overruled his decision as I out rank him, and sent the healer with a soldier to the tent where the prisoner was kept. Then the yelling started. I'm not sure how, but the prisoner got free. He had been bound in hempen ropes, but a dagger was missing from the soldier’s things when we searched the body. The healer was dead when I got to the tent as well. I ordered the camp secured and took two men with me to track the prisoner through the forest. He was travelling West, most likely trying to reach the Peninsulas front lines. He crossed the river to try and cover his tracks, but still wounded he left a trail of blood. We cornered him a few miles away, but he put up a fight. I killed him. I didn't have a choice.

I know we said we would stop apologizing to one another, but I find myself in the impossibility of upholding this promise. I have failed you in my duty to protect you in body and in name. I had sworn to see the healers to the front safety, and now one is dead, and the sole lead we had on the Peninsulas forces is as well. The fault is no one's but mine, and I shoulder it fully. I cannot begin to excuse my actions, which in the moment seemed rational, nor can I imagine the consequences this will have on you back at the Isles. The guild was already thought too dangerous a venture, and now your naysayers have all the ammunition they need. Not only does blood soak my hand, but I have stained yours as well.

I have given the rest of the wizards the choice to go home. They will answer me in the morning. I will continue south with any who wish.

I wish so to be by your side at this time, and if the wind would carry me, I would tame it and ride it to see you. I would tear down the opposition with the edge of my blade until nought was left but your word. It seems, however, that swords do not always solve the issue at hand. Perhaps, that is why you carry the crown, and I do not. I only wish I could have been enough.

Yours, if you will still have me,

Wilhelm


	10. Truly a Dissapointment

Dear Wilhelm,

Truly, I am disappointed darling. I had such high hopes for you, held you in such gleaming esteem and it seems despite this that you have let me down in the worse possible way. By means of yet another apology. Really, I sincerely thought we had put those to rest, with a promise no less. Surely a wise man like yourself ought to realize by now that it is futile to apologize to someone who you haven’t wronged. Do not break your word again, for the fury I have against my enemies is overshadowed by the wrath I bear for those that are guilt ridden without cause. We trust each other, remember?

As for the matter of the prisoner that appears to be troubling you so, well, bad things happen Wilhelm. I’m sure there is a more eloquent way of saying that, but it seems my brain is fried after a long night of captivating conversation with yet more civil councillors. Of course, the prisoner would have given us crucial information about the Devout and their forces, but we will trudge on nonetheless, hope still burning bright in our eyes. You did the right thing by striking him down, for if he had escaped, the consequences would have been far more disastrous. And for the healer… Well, that whole affair is truly unfortunate. They are good people, and losing one of their own will undoubtedly shake them. However, they are stronger than they look Wilhelm. I’m sure they will rally around this tragic event, seeing it even more as proof that their contribution to this war is necessary. My thoughts go out to their family in the Isles though. News of what happen will surely reach them soon. I know it has reach those who would oppose me, my naysayers as you spoke of. No worries to be had there though, for I have dealt with their kind all of my life, with smiles and schemes. A little more contempt and disrespect only fans the flames of my ambition.

The wizards all knew of the risks of going South close to the Front Wilhelm. The death of one of their own is not your burden to bear. No, it was with a heavy heart that I read your last letter, but I must insist you stop blaming yourself for everything that goes awry around you. You underestimate how beneficial and advantageous your presence in this expedition is. Not to mention how pleasant your company is back home. Truly, I miss it Wilhelm. Especially on these desolate evenings when I know we could be pouring over a map together, our minds working as one to reveal kinks in our enemy’s armor. As for the rapier lessons from Fidel, I’m afraid I’ll only accept teachings from the master himself. No sloppy seconds for the Demon Prince. Therefore, make haste on your journey, so that my swordplay may once again be tested against the Captain of the Naeve himself.

You are and will always be enough darling. And I still choose you to stand by my side.

Your friend,

Oslo

P.S.: I am however saddened that my ensemble for the interrogation won’t be put to the test. Still, perhaps a trade over a tankard of ale can be negotiated. Your bagpipes for my infamous décolletage. Sleep on it darling.


	11. Dear Oslo

Dear Olso,

That was... That was terribly unnecessary. Those first few lines practically made my heart give out. I don't think you understand the esteem I hold you in. My- Yva, one of the healers, asked if I was sick when she saw the pallor of my face. I practically had to fend her off to read the rest of this letter, she threatened to send you a missive herself if I didn't lie down and rest. I think they have gotten a tad over protective since the events with the prisoner. I came back with a few scrapes and Yva practically had a cow. They seem quite taken with me since we shared those tarts.

If I may not apologize, then perhaps you may grant me the right to thank you for your words. They have alleviated somewhat the weight the events that transpired. Know, however, that I will never fully forgive myself for the death of one of our own, and will carry her soul in my heart always, as is my nature. Nevertheless, your forked tongue, once again, proved mightily convincing. I don't think I could find the words to truly express my appreciation. I know this friendship was proposed to help ease the one-man front you battle in the courts, but it seems it is I who am getting the most out of our exchange. There are many things I was forced to do during my time at the front, some which saw me promoted to captain upon my return, of which I am not proud. I wear that guilt like a second skin, but today is perhaps the first day, that I do not notice as much. Your company often sees me forget who I am, and yet I trust you completely with my disillusioned self.

If you could forward me the address of the healer's family, I would appreciate the chance to explain to them myself what happened to their daughter. It is the kind of closure I know a lot of families wish for.

In other news, we have reached the site of the field hospital, with all the remaining healers, none of which decided to return home. We crested the hills this morning, and have set up camp on the edge of the ruins which will serve as foundation. The other platoon of soldiers is to meet up with us in a week's time to start setting up. They encountered some difficulties to the south, which kept them from our decided date, two days ago. Though, I guess, since we were also late, it is not much trouble. Everyone will be enjoying a much deserved rest for the next few days. The healers have already requested a music night. I hear Yva had bagpipes, but I don't think I'll be playing much. The site is too large to secure fully with the number of men we currently have, so everyone is on guard. The second platoon was to be stationed here permanently with a rotating basis of healers and secondary soldiers, but as is, we have only half the necessary swords to scout and guard to my standard. We'll keep to the camp and cover of the trees until the reinforcements arrive.

I think an appearance of your plunging neckline for a rendition of 'Hurry Home my Boys' is a very good exchange. My register is mostly military tunes.

Yours,

Will

PS: Try as you might, the Naeve still only answer to me, my dear Prince. Even making Fidel swear not to tell me that you begged him to teach you how to 'knock Will on his pretty little arse' will not keep them from their duty. You thought I'd go light on you, thinking you a virgin of the blade? My dear Prince, do not tempt me to teach you a lesson in thoroughness. I never go easy.


	12. Dear Will

Dear Will,

I’m glad I gave you quite the fright. Serves you right for being unnecessarily apologetic. I’m also pleased to hear the healers seem to have taken a liking to you, though I must confess I am not surprised. You do have quite a magnetic personality and charm you know, one I confess has enraptured me thus far. And your request for the family's address is accepted of course. I will include it with the next set of official orders sent out to you.

I am further rejoiced over the fact that my previous letter granted you peace of mind after that troubling situation. My silver-tongued ways have proven useful in court, but I am overjoyed to know they can be used to soothe a friend as well. Although I must say, calming a compatriot is one of the more simpler things that my forked tongue can achieve. Anyhow, I must agree with you when saying that this friendship of ours seems to be a bustling two way street, both of us benefitting from it in the process. Though unless my mind is failing, Iseem recall that is how most friendships are supposed to work. As for your past Will… Well, it doesn’t define you. Whatever happened, whatever you did, you are a good man nevertheless. And I cherish our moments together, for you help be a better man as well.

Speaking of, it seems I actually was the better man, for I accurately predicted that the rest of the healers would all go with you. You are a greater and more charismatic leader than you think darling. I knew they would still follow you. Nonetheless, I must admit I was not pleased with hearing that the reinforcements for the field hospital have not arrived yet. Some delay is acceptable, but you are far too vulnerable without them for this long. And you are easy targets for anyone looking to disturb our efforts in this war. Be wary Will. If anything were to happen to you… why, I perish the thought of losing my most trusted advisor.

Concerning what was said to Fidel, well, I will have to make a note of watching my tongue around him. Though, quite handsome as he is, I'm afraid it becomes ever harder to control myself when in his presence. But, his loyalties obviously still lie with you, oh Captain, so I’m afraid I will have to refrain from divulging too much about my opinion of you when he and I converse, in fear that it spreads directly to your ears. As for your sword lessons, who ever put the silly idea in your head that I wanted you to go easy on me? My dear Wilhelm, you have no clue how rough I can go. And I’m afraid I simply cannot resist tempting you darling. It’s just too easy.

Yours,

Oslo

P.S.: you do have quite the pretty little arse though.


	13. A Drunken Misstep

Dear Prince Oslo,

I am rejoiced to know you are taken with my first in command. Glad. I am, overjoyed. Why, I could never have hoped for such a development. Quite the surprise, but truly, who am I to say anything as I am absent from the court. You seem to enjoy doing many things behind my back. I’ll have to ask Fidel to be more thorough in his future reports to account for the discrepancies I see between your letters and his.

Of course the healers are taken with me, what’s not to like? Though I am not born with a forked tongue, I do have my own redeeming qualities which make me fun company. In fact, I hear Yva calling now, bagpipes and what not.

Camp is secure.

Wilhelm


	14. Captain, My Captain

Captain Tildree,

From your scribbled handwriting to your... peculiar sentences in your last message, I gather you ended up enjoying the festivities with the healers after all. I must say, I am so terribly and incredibly ecstatic that amongst all this strife, war and bloodshed, where one must be responsible, alert and mature at all costs, you found time to let loose, forget your post and enjoy yourself for one night, free of all your usual duties and obligations that must plague you so. Truly, nothing could have made me happier that to know that the Captain of the Naeve, leader and forerunner of this crucially important expedition, had the leisure and privilege of letting his mind and reason leave him for one evening of debauchery. I cherish the thought.

As for my comment on your first in command, why, I fear I may have struck a sensitive nerve. A small misunderstanding I’m sure, for I meant nothing by it. I assure you, I was merely extending a kindness to your men in hopes it would alleviate any stress or tremendous guilt you bore with leaving me behind, all alone with these then strangers in a court already hostile to my name. Fidel has simply been a surprisingly good friend in the prolonged absence of the only person I had deemed trustworthy so far. And trust me darling, just cause I think a horse is pretty doesn’t mean I want to ride it.

Furthermore, I am so delighted to hear of you and Yva’s time together! I am compelled to admit that I did not peg her as your type, but I am sure she is as interesting and lovely as she is skilled with the blade. And I bear no delusion in thinking that you did not enjoy her kindnesses on the road darling. Genuinely, I am so glad you too have found each other on this mission. Tell me, should I prepare the wedding bells on your return?

Lastly darling, as amusing and belly-aching as your last letter was, I feel I am obliged to remind you that, though I am aware that the Naeve remains an independent body from the royalty of the Isles, I am still the Prince of Lathander. Strive to retain that fact the next time the urge of penmanship strikes you whilst inebriated.

Your fiendish friend,

The Demon Prince

P.S.: I’m not mad Wilhelm. Annoyed and laughing my pretty arse off. But not mad. Oh, and I seem to have made an error in my letter. Yva is not a swordsman, she is a healer! My apologies.


	15. Dearest Demon

Dearest Demon of Mine,

Indeed, it was most kind of the healers to spike my drink and bribe my men into taking my shift on the rounds so as for me to enjoy a night off for the first time in the last month. I must have written that letter, of which I have very little recollection, sometime between skinny dipping in the stream, and sleeping for the most consecutive hours (that is to say, more than five) in recent memory. Whatever Yva used was most potent indeed. Rest easy knowing that I am now keeping a weary eye out for slipped brews, and that nothing of the kind will ever happen again, least of all to your knowledge.

As for the matter of Fidel, there seems to indeed have been a misunderstanding of sorts. I will admit, I might have reacted quite in accordance with the amount of alcohol in my system, for I had thought I had buried these feelings eons ago. Though I would never be one to offer such information freely, I believe our friendship extends beyond that of simple politeness. Fidel has many a stories from our time in the guard, many of which you have heard, and many you have not. I hope I can count on your discretion when I say that we have been very close over the years, and he earned his position as my second in command in more ways than one. I guess I simply got rather jealous at seeing you both so amicable. Of course, all within the lines of propriety. Riding is an exercise done only in good company.

Now, if my insinuation in that last paragraph were not enough to dissuade you from ringing said wedding bells, might I remind you of my enthusiasm at seeing your tortuous outfit? I doubt a stag party is quite the occasion. Wouldn’t want the groom to run away with the best man the night before such a joyous occasion. For a friendly riding session, of course.

I will duly remember that, my Prince. You are not easily forgotten, even in the throws of moonshine.

Your most devoted servant,

Captain Tildree, a Tool

PS: And if perhaps, my meaning still eludes you, this might lighten things. Apparently, in the midst of my alcohol induced slumber, I quite loudly exclaimed my appreciation for said pretty little arse, to the raucous laughter and joy of Yva, who has yet to let me forget it.


	16. Interlude

‘Mmm…’

‘M..Mm…’

‘Ah!’

‘Gnmm…’

‘You don’t have to be quiet.’

‘I’m trying not to wake up the whole camp.’

‘With your moaning?’

‘It’s manly groaning.’

‘Sure.’

‘Mm…’

‘M.. Fu…’

‘Mmm… Ahh!’

‘Stop wiggling!’

‘You’re killing me here Yva.’

‘I’m trying to be gentle.’

‘I’d rather you finish quick.’

‘That’s what every woman wants to here.’

‘Mm… Fuck! Yva!’

‘Just a little more.’

‘I think I need a break.’

‘But I’m so close!’

‘If we keep this up I won’t be able to ride tomorrow.’

‘You won’t be able to ride tomorrow either way.’

‘We need to. Heading south and drawing their attention is the only way…’

‘If these tear, I swear to-‘

‘Fuck!’

‘Fine, fine. Let’s take a break.’

Yva set down the needle and thread and leaned back on her aching hands. The air was heavy with the rain that pitter-pattered outside the tent, making her joints stiff. Usually a soft brush of magic would ease them, but her pools had dried up hours ago, used on more severe injuries. She still wore her bloodstained robes, her other set having burned up with the camp in the night. She hadn’t known the bodies of her fallen friends would feed the flames so viciously. The fabric would have hardened had it not been for the rain. The drops had fallen from the heavens like a gift from the Gods, or an apology, and washed the blood from her face and hair, watered down the scarlet caked on the knees of her pants, the sleeves of her tunic. Still damp, she sat cross-legged on the blankets the soldiers from the reinforcement platoon had scrounged up from their supplementary equipment. The air had cooled to a crisp autumnal night, but the fire burning low at the mouth of the tent gave off enough heat to keep her from shivering. The Captain of the Naeve trembled in front of her, from the pain, or from the cold, she wasn’t sure. Naked from the waist up, his dark skin looked golden in the fire light by which she was mending his wrecked shoulder. The sight would have appealed to her if not for the grotesque gash between the tip of his shoulder blade and his spine. Getting the arrow head out had been the easy part.

‘That was stupidly reckless.’ She berated him, for the nth time since she’d carefully peeled the ruined leather armour from his back, cut through the fabric imbedded in the gash, held him up as he almost passed out from the pain.

‘Says the person who signed up to voluntarily come down to the front.’ Will gasped through his clattering teeth. Yva pulled the blanket she had been sitting on around his good shoulder and waist. He curled into it, his skin looking washed out against the rich red and yellows. He had lost a lot of blood.

‘And you didn’t?’ She asked, busying herself with tucking him in like the child he was. Only children did such thoughtless things, getting themselves hurt.

‘Touché.’ He chuckled, but it turned to a cough. Yva frowned and pressed her hand to the splattering of blue and purple along his left side. He hissed at the contact, but her cold fingertips followed each rib nonetheless, looking for a break.

‘I’m fine.’ He insisted.

‘Does it hurt when you breathe?’

‘Yva, really.’

‘Tyldree, you are testing my good-‘

‘No, okay? It doesn’t hurt. I’m just cold and thirsty and exhausted. That’s all.’ He relented.

‘That’s all.’ She threw her hands up, but Will still faced the fire and missed her theatrics. She stood, her tall frame bent to accommodate the tent.‘Don’t move, I’m getting you another blanket and some water.’

‘The platoon leader said this was all they had.’ He turned his head to watch her wrap her bloodied robes tighter around her wide shoulders. The cold outside was biting.

‘The platoon leader is going to learn the meaning of sharing.’ Her tone left little room for argument, but Will was nothing if not tireless.

‘Yva –‘

‘Move, and I will tie you to a tree until that wound closes. Do not test me Tyldree.’ Then again, some fights simply weren’t worth fighting.

‘Yes, Captain.’ He mock saluted her. She smacked his hand out of the air as she shuffled out of the tent. Will watched her outline disappear into the rows of tents along the tree line. He waited a breath, then two, and finally let his shoulders sag, ignoring the spike of pain the movement caused. He pulled the blanket across the raised skin of his bare chest, still damp from the downpour. His bones sang of exhaustion, his muscles seizing from simply sitting up. Having spent the night crouched in a cave’s mouth with a crossbow notched and resting on the horizon had tested his resolve in ways he hadn’t felt since his first tour on the front lines, some half a dozen years ago. His thumb brushed the edge of crumpled parchment, tucked beneath his leg after it had been rescued from the breastplate of his ruined armour. Even in his delirious haze of pain, he had managed to grab Yva’s hand in a steely grip and convey that he would never forgive her if something happened to those letters.

Will had managed to grab them from under his bedroll in the midst of the chaos, almost reflexively, as intuitive as slipping on his bracers and grabbing his broad sword. Apparently not as automatic as grabbing his helm, seen as he'd spent the length of the fight getting his hair grabbed, and his head smashed into any which hard surface. It had grown long, since he’d left the Isles, falling in dark curls over his forehead. Thankfully, one of the healers had seen to the gash bisecting his eyebrow at some point when they laid in wait in the cave. A thin scar was now the only indication he'd ever prioritized his unrequited royal lover over his own head. He had carried the letters through the battle, the parchment lending him strength as he tore through the enemy ranks, warm between his breastplate and heart.

‘Just stupid. Throwing yourself in front of an arrow? What were you thinking?’ Yva returned, not missing a beat as she stomped through the tent entrance, not noticing Will's knee jerk reaction to hide the thin parchment. She threw two extra blankets and a shirt Will was sure he had seen the platoon leader wearing earlier that day, onto his lap. The womanly wiles and fearful fury of Yva Llanesco would forever elude him.

‘Kworin would have taken it to the neck.’

‘And you thought you had a better chance at what? Stopping it mid-air? With what magic other than plain stupidity?’ She quipped, settling back behind him. She uncooked her water skin and washed her hands and the needle before sterilizing it in the bottle of moonshine Will had been dipping into. Yva held it out without being asked, and Will took a heavy swing, letting the burn numb the blazing in his back.

‘I’m taller.’ He countered once the urge to gag at the ridiculous proof alcohol had passed.

‘Yes, thank the gods your ridiculous height saved us all.’ Yva muttered in response, digging into his skin with the pointed end of her sewing needle without as much as a warning. Will swallowed a gasp and dug half moons into his palms with his nails. He fished for a distraction.

‘And my wide shoulders. Don’t forget my maddeningly wide shoulders.’

‘How could I? And inch less and that arrow would have buried itself in your spine. I’ve seen men beg for death over that kind of pain.’

‘I don’t beg.’

‘You’ll be groveling for my cooking by the time we get to Veinmarta, you have my word on that. I make the best wild mushroom stew in the whole of the Isles.’

‘I wouldn’t be surprised if you managed it.’

Silence settled around them, punctured by the crackling of the dying fire, the occasional hiss or swear from the Captain of the Naeve. Yva busied herself with working fast, sewing the skin back together were it had been so brutally torn apart. Things such as stitches were antiquated in the time of modern magical medicine, but still came in handy in times like these. Times of war. She made a last loop and cut the remaining string with Will’s knife. It had a new notch curtesy of stopping short a broadsword aimed for her neck. A dagger, against a broadsword. The boy was a fool to think he could venture off to the south without parental supervision. He’d be dead before he stepped foot out of camp.

'I can't believe-'

'Yva. I get it. Are you done? Ow!' She'd smacked his bruised side.

'Not until you get it through that thick skull of yours that we need you alive. The Isles need you alive.'

'You sound like the Prince. You guys should never meet, you'd get along too well.'

'Jealous?' There was a hint of teasing in her tone as she applied a strip of clean cloth to cover the wound.

'Bite me, Yva.'

'Don't tempt me. Maybe I should write to your dear Demon Prince-'

'He's not a demon. He's a tiefling.' Cut in Will, feeling his shoulders tense protectively under Yva's cold hand and cold bandages.

'Aren't they descended from a demonic bloodline? He's got those evil horns and everything.' She mimicked them with her hands, but Will didn't dignify her with a glance.

'I like his horns,' he countered, 'and he wouldn't hurt a soul. He's kinder and more compassionate than most humans I know.'

'You sound like a lovesick maiden.'

'Maybe I am.'

'Finally ready to admit it sober?'

'Admit what, Yva?' He threw her a narrowed-eye look over his shoulder.

'I'm just saying, our dear drunk captain had big four-letter-words to say about the heir of Lathander.' She sang and Will's face finally went from sickly pale to bright pink.

'W-what...' He sputtered, 'Yva, I never...'

'Oh Yva! You should see him just walking around the castle. No, not walk! He struts, he prances. Walking is for us plebeians!' She took a low tone reminiscent of his register, and Will hid his heated cheeks in his hands. 'Hey! Don't move I'm not done.'

'You won't need to finish, I'm throwing myself off the nearest cliff.' He muttered, muffled by his palms.

'Oh huff, don't be dramatic!' She scolded. Will looked back up, stricken, and turned to face her in the small space the tent allowed.

'Me!? You've been on my ass-'

'You wouldn't mind if I was the prince.' She cut in but Will had the dignity to ignore her comment, not that the flush now rising to his hairline helped.

'-all night about the damn arrow-' He continued.

'Stupidest thing I've seen this side of the Wystir Mountains.' She pipped up again.

'- and you have the gall to call me, dramatic?' He finished, chest rising and falling rapidly with every breath. She looked ready to reply with as much sass as she could muster, when her eye caught the parchment no longer hidden beneath Will's leg in his haste to face her. Yva's expression softened, and she blew out a breath.

'Fine. I'm sorry. Now turn back around so I can finish and you can write lover boy.' She probed his shoulder until he spun back to face the dying embers with a huff. His hand went instinctively to the letters and he traced his name, written in practiced cursive, dried ink dyed orange by the embers' light.

'No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled.' He eventually breathed into the silence. Yva didn't stop in her practiced movements, drawing the strips of clean cloth across his chest, securing a folded square against the gash to keep the stitches from catching. Her fingers, her arms, her skin was always cold to the touch, fresh like dew.

'You call that yelling?' She quipped, as was in her nature, 'You should have seen me earlier when the platoon leader refused to take his shirt off.'

'By the gods, Yva.' Swore Will, but he chuckled.

'What? I wasn't just going to let you walk around shirtless! You'd have half the camp waiting by the tent entrance. If word ever got back to your prince...'

'Gods smite me now.'

'Though who knows, maybe he likes sharing. I hear he has two moms.'

'Kelemvor take pity on my soul.'

'The soldiers mentioned his real mom's on the Front. Maybe we'll meet her on our way to Veinmarta.'

‘May the ground open up and swallow me whole.’

'Do you think it's preemptive for you to ask for her son’s hand? Or will you have to ask the Queen for that?’

‘Screw the Gods, I’m going to that cliff.’ He made to stand up and her fingers closed like talons over his good shoulder.

‘Move and I’ll feed you to Kelemvor piece by piece, I’m almost done.’ She ordered, fussing with the edges of the bandages.

‘Fine, but only if you stop spewing such ludicrous fantasies.’ Will bartered. He could almost hear the smirk on the wizard’s face.

‘Oh so you admit you fantasize about the prince’s ridiculous ass.’

‘That. Is not what I said.’ He countered, the color returning again to his cheeks. By the Gods he needed to control himself. He rearranged the blankets on his lap and stared hard into the dying embers.

‘No, but I’m not wrong either.’ Yva quipped. ‘There, done.’ She stood with a pat on his good shoulder and shuffled out of his tent, rearranging her robes in the crips night air. Will knew she wasn’t done. Yva was never done. True to form, she gave him a shrewd look, lips pursed and frowning.

‘You should write him.’

‘Who?’ He played coy.

‘Don’t play coy with me Tyldree.’ She knew him too well. Wonders what a few months in death-defying situations could do to strengthen a friendship. Will’s eyes fell to the last missive he had received, the day before last. _I am still the Prince of Lathander. Strive to retain that fact._

‘I don’t think he likes me much at the moment.’ He muttered.

‘Nonsense. You’re like one of those sad dogs no one can help but pity.’ She replied, and Will tried to skewer her with a look.

‘Gee. Thanks.’ She rolled her eyes. He was such a fool. Anyone could see the longing looks the prince would cast his way during meetings. Yva had only ever assisted one, and she had left thinking for sure they were making the most of the freedom of movement such titles allowed after curfew. And then she’d gotten Will drunk and found out the man was as helpless as the heir. She’d read some of their correspondence, at Will’s insistence, and little was more pathetic than the semblance of politeness the two tried to pass their undying affection off as.

‘He’ll want to know what happened here.’ She tried.

‘He’ll get the report.’ He rebuffed.

‘First hand. From you. He’ll want to know you’re okay.’

‘I’m fine.’

‘Apart from being in denial, sure.’ She conceded with a smirk. Will tried again to freeze over the land with the power of his glare. ‘Oh stop looking at me like that. You know you’ll receive some harried and worried missive the second he hears, and then you’ll be the fool who didn’t write him first! He’ll think you’re playing hard to get.’

‘I’m not playing anything.’ He defended himself, rolling the last letter between his fingers. It had a splotch of blood that smeared some of the sign off. _The Demon Prince._

‘Then you’re playing with his emotions.’ That got a reaction. Will’s gaze flashed to her face and the fury there pinned her to the spot.

‘I would never do anything to hurt him.’ The certainty in his words rocked Yva, wooed her a little really. For anyone to care for her in such a way would be welcome. Then again, she’d seen how torn up Will had been after hearing the prince was sword fighting with his first in command, and perhaps, after all, it simply wasn’t worth the trouble. Still, it was nice to see.

‘Then don’t make him worry. He cares for you, he’s told you that much. And you care for him don’t you?’ Did she have to spell it out for him?

‘Very much so.’ He answered, with much the same certainty as his last. She wanted to smack some sense into the man, but he was injured and she had qualms about destroying her own good work.

’Then what the bloody hell are you waiting for you great dunce! As soon as we get back, swoop him off his feet, kiss him or whatever it is you kids do now-a-days.’ She threw her hands up for emphasis.

‘Yva, you’re only five years older than me.’ He deadpanned and she placed her hand to her head, as if lost to the times and his ungraciousness.

‘It feels like an era.’

‘You’re impossible.’

‘And you’re a fool in love.’ She concluded. She turned to leave but he stopped her with a few words, more sure than she had expected, as if he’d already been thinking about it before she suggested it.

‘I’ll kiss him.’ He said, and she spun to face him, arching one pleasantly surprised eyebrow.

‘You will?’

‘Yeah. Its how I feel. I think it’s how he feels.’ He avoided thinking about the last letter. He hoped his response had fixed things somewhat.

‘On the lips?’ She pursued, and Will felt his ears burn, but kept his frown decidedly unamused.

‘Well I can’t very well kiss him anywhere else!’

‘Not in public, no.’ She conceded and his face fell between his hands once more.

‘By the Gods Yva. Go to sleep!’ His muffled plea came. ‘I can only take so much of you and we have days alone before we reach Veinmarta, may the gods take mercy on my soul.’

‘Your soul? What about mine! It’ll be a week of ‘Yva, his eyes shine like if dawn was dusted with gold, I want to wake up everyday to the sight!’ and crying when he takes more than two days to answer.’ She put her hands on her hips and squared her shoulders, taking on her best mimic of his voice, which really wasn’t too far off. Practice tended to perfect.

‘Yva!’

‘His arse felt so nice in my hand when I threw him over my shoulder. He weighs nothing! He should eat more. I should write to make sure he’s eating enough.’ She pursued.

‘Leave!’ Will whisper-yelled, conscious of the other men asleep in their tents a few feet away. He threw a handful of twigs to help his point.

‘I miss the way our shoulders would brush at the table when we poured over the maps, the looks, the glances. He accidentally spilled some ink once and we had matching spots on our fingertips for days. I wonder if he remembers.’

‘Me!’ A handful of dirt and crushed leaves this time.

‘When we left, he hugged me behind the columns of the castle and told me to return safely to him. To him, particularly. Not home, not to his service, but to him personally.’

‘Be!’ The second blanket that had been covering his lap. Yva stopped in her tirade long enough to Will’s tented trousers a glance, and skipped off into the thicket.

‘Fine! Goodnight Captain.’ She threw over her shoulder. Will was already suffocating from the embarrassment.

‘Goodnight Yva.’


	17. Urgent Missive, Please Respond

Will,

I received the reports yesterday in the dead of night. To be awaken by such grim news… So many casualties. So many good people lost. Fortuitously, I didn’t spot your name on the list, but I worry nonetheless darling. Are you okay? Were you wounded in the attack or did you scrape by unharmed? And what in Lathander’s name happened? The communiques were vague at best and contradictory at worst, I presume quickly written in a fit of panic. I cannot go on without hearing from you. Please, make haste in your response.

I knew something was awry the moment the reinforcements were delayed. I should have given the order to come back. To forget this foolish mission and return home. The risks were too high, our numbers too small, the camp too exposed. The expedition was already overly ambitious before it even set out. And now we’ve paid the price for this… this arrogance, this hubris. Damn it, I should have seen this coming! Forgive me darling… I am unaccustomed to failure, even more when such failings must include the loss of countless dedicated lives. I cannot stop but feel responsible for this. For all of it. After all, it was my vision. I just wanted to help. But good intentions will only get you so far I suppose regretfully.

What will happen now? Are you staying with the rest of the healers or is a return journey in the works? I do not presume to give you commands on such subject, for obviously, my judgment is fraught with oversight and flaws, as the reports have demonstrated. I only wish I could ride down to meet you, so that I may assess of your condition with my own eyes. But I’m afraid this tragedy serves only as ammunition for my adversaries in court, and my presence and voice is sadly required here to relinquish as little terrain to them as possible.

I hope your response will bring better news. And perhaps if you choose to come back home, it could be the silver lining I need to put this horrid situation behind me.

Yours with penitence,

Oslo

P.S.: at the very least, I have your last letter to reread to try and cheer me up, though it seems to make me blush more than anything. Your postscript still manages to bring a coy smile to my face darling. And I am happy to know we are playing on the same side.


	18. Front Lines

Oslo,

It's not your fault. Nothing could have prevented this. No one could have. We are only lucky I had the foresight to have the scouts map out the territory when we arrive, and that we didn't happen to be attacked the night I was forcefully inebriated. I'm relieved to hear the messenger got to you. The information was too critical to send by hawk. Please see to it that the young man receives the necessary care. He was still bleeding when he left, but we could spare no one else. That list will be a few days old now, we have lost more good men since. Fewer than we would have, had the healers not been with us, but some were too far gone to save. I will send a full report once we reach Veinmarta. I only take the time to write this at Yva's insistence that I sit down and rest, but sleep eludes me.

Do not bear the responsibility for this attack, it's fault is only that of the Peninsulas. The bastards came in the dead of night, their ranks fortified by many with darkvision. They took out the perimeter guards relying on stealth, keeping them from alerting the main camp. The only reason we weren’t all slaughtered in our sleep was Yva's alarm spell she had cast for extra precaution. The moment a foe crossed the invisible line, the whole camp was awoken by a blaring horn. I owe her my life, we all do. Magic seems to have more uses than simply healing. I took command of the troop from the guard captain, and rallied our forces. We had two dozen soldiers, and the handful of healers. I cloistered the healers in the center of camp, spreading out the soldiers on a tight circumference. The fighting was bloody, the Peninsulas hold no qualms using dirty tricks and black magic. We started loosing men quick, spread out too thin and fighting on too many fronts. Reinforcements were still a day away and I knew we wouldn't be able to hold out at the camp sight. The scouts had found a cave mouth in the hills to the East, not far on foot. I changed our formation to a two front spread, keeping the healers in the middle as we blasted through the eastern enemy forces and retreated. It left our side privy to attack, and I have to admit that tactic cost us the most men. Still, we wouldn't have survived otherwise. I had the guard captain take the front while I followed with a handful of men at the rear to fend off our pursuers. We made it to the cave with minor casualties. I placed our ranged attackers at the mouth, keeping the Peninsula forces at bay, about 100 feet out. The healers saw to the wounded and I had the guard captain draft the report you received. We sent the messenger out under one of Yva's invisibility spells.

We held out the night in the cave. No one slept, the attacks relentless against us. The healers were fading quick, their magic exhausted. The men were bleeding as they kneeled with their bows fixed on the horizon, no one sparred in the onslaught. I had sent a hawk to the reinforcements. They arrive at dawn, crested over the hill behind us, and rained down on the remaining assailants. By mid-morning, the coast was clear. We tallied the dead. Out of the thirty men and women I started with, of which six were healers, and four were my own men, we are now fourteen. Almost half who will not be able to ride for at least a few days, if not worse. One healer caught an arrow to the throat in the fray. It was quick. Even with the second platoon of close to forty soldiers, I did not feel the hospital site safe enough to stay at. We needed to move, but to take ground, we would have had to leave the wounded behind. We were sitting ducks at the hospital site, and if the Peninsulas didn't know we had the healers with us before, they did now. You yourself know how valuable a healer is on the Front. We would just be waiting for another attack. The only option was to split up, divide their attention. I ordered the second platoon to continue north, a month ahead of their next posting, taking with them two of the healers disguised as soldiers amongst them. Their rotation will bring them back to Veinmarta in two month's time. I sent the rest of my men, and the wounded, to the nearest Ilses occupied village. Scouts sent ahead brought back a cart in which we could carry the severely wounded, and clothes. I sent with them two more healers, the lot disguised as merchants. The hope is, as they travel East, they can pass as villagers who got caught in the crossfire. They will remain at the village until further order, with the small troop stationed there. The idea is keep the Peninsulas' attention elsewhere. Particularly, on two lone riders headed south.

The camp had been burned to the ground, we had nothing but what we had thought to carry with us in the fray.The second platoon had little extra to offer us, but I managed to find a good horse and a new set of armor. Yva, the sole remaining healer, and I, will travel south to Veinmarta, down the Front. The two of us, travelling alone, and not covering our tracks, will draw attention. The faster and harder we ride, the more conspicuous we become. She will leave a trail of magic for them to track us, pulling them in the direct opposite direction of the other soldiers and healers. I can only hope this will be enough for the other healers to flee, and eventually regroup in Veinmarta. I cannot know if this scheme with work, if they will attack us, or ignore us completely. I would have ridden alone into enemy lines to draw their fire, but I sustained a small scratch of a wound and Yva outright threatened me if I tried slipping out in the night without her. She is a force to be reckoned with. You'd like her. If all goes well, Yva and I should reach Veinmarta in a fortnight. There, I will request additional forces meet and bring my men back from the village where they are hidden for the time being. I can only hope we are enough of a distraction, but not enough of a threat.

Your fight in the courts is what keeps us fighting on the Front, my Prince. Do not let your adversaries use this to conquer. We have come this far, and Yva might have an idea of how to turn this tragedy...

I will return home as soon as I am no longer needed here. I wish I could give you a date, but I have nothing to offer but a promise of my eventual return. Wait for me.

Yours,

Will


	19. Yours truly

Dearest Will,

I was terribly relieved when your letter finally arrived. Even bad news from you is still better than no news at all. And do not fret about the messenger. He was well taken care of upon his arrival, and he will be generously rewarded for his efforts and bravery.

Your description of what happened that night left me… astonished, for lack of better words. I have heard many accounts of the Devout’s attacks on our forces, but none as detailed as yours. And I know come to fully realize that without you Will, the tides would certainly turn against us. Darling, the way you described commanding your soldiers into formation around the healers and directing them to the nearby cave, further holding your ground there as the attackers kept on with their onslaught… well, it makes me understand why you are out there on the frontline. Why you were appointed Captain of the Naeve, rightly so I now see. I don’t know if you truly grasp this Will, but you are an invaluable addition to the Isles, to our forces. And to my retinue of course, though I now understand that your military talents are wasted upon our long nights of deliberation, when you undoubtedly shine brightest when leading our soldiers into battle. I must admit as well, though my opinion of Yva was first at best lukewarm, I now see that she is most definitely incredibly talented and immeasurably helpful in these trying times. Her magic seems to have given us the edge we needed to survive this ambush. Do give her my official recognition and gratitude when you have the chance. She undeniably deserves it and much more for all she’s done.

As for the people we’ve lost… far too many for my liking. All good soldiers, good healers, good citizens of the Isles. They did not deserve this. Their families will be advised of this grim news, and I will personally arrange for them to be compensated for their loss. I know it will not make up for the people in their lives who are now gone forever, but I hope that it will at least ease their pain, even if a little. If you can send anything back home of the ones who fell that night… a necklace, a book, a trinket, anything… I’m sure their fathers and mothers will be more than grateful.

I am pleased to know that the rest of the soldiers and healers will be hiding out for the time being. We cannot afford to lose more, so it was unquestionably the right call to make darling. And a clever one at that, disguising the remaining members of the Glowing Hands as merchants and soldiers. Not just a pretty face I see. Though I must confess, the later part of your plan displeases me greatly. You and Yva alone, riding out to Veinmarta hoping to attract the Peninsulas attention? I understand a distraction was needed, but to put your life in such danger… Wilhelm, you are more valuable than you think! I am only glad the healer decided to accompany you in the end. Her and I seem to have much of the same worries about you I see. And it is a good scheme, one I would wholeheartedly approve of if you weren’t the bait. Still, I pray to the gods the Devout don’t see through it. We… no, I cannot afford to lose my most trusted confidant. Not now. Not ever.

Oh darling, how I wish I could ride down to Veinmarta on the swiftest horse I could find. I would ride through day and night, neither fatigue nor sleep holding me back. I could meet you there, and we could plan out the rest of this war together. Just the two of us. Gods know the Peninsulas would find that combined, we are a force to be reckoned with. The Demon Prince and the Captain of the Naeve, fighting on the Front together. Of course, you’d be doing most of the fighting, for my skills with the sword leave much to be desired I’m afraid. And I could see your handsome face again, a perk not to be underestimated. But no, I’m afraid my place in court is as needed as ever, for I am immeasurably more useful to you here, my voice remaining one of the few still fighting for you darling. Nonetheless, I bear good news. You will not need to call for reinforcements once in Veinmarta for I have provided that for you. I convinced the Mage Queen of Lathander and the province’s military councillors to let me send a platoon of our best forces down to you in order to support and revivify this mission after the attack. Two hundred of our best warriors will be at your disposal, not to mention the Naeve that I persuaded to accompany them, though I must admit they were more than eager to go help their Captain. Fidel and Gasbrought will be amongst them. They were not thrilled with leaving me with fewer guards, but I assured them that I’d be fine, and that you were the priority here. All the soldiers have been delegated to your direct command of course, and they will bear the emblem of Lathander, to remind any who gaze upon this squadron that I, Prince Bjornvak, am as invested in this war and as loyal to the Isles as anyone else. Plus they look really cute in their matching uniforms I confess. I sent them out only two days after receiving your letter, so they should arrive in Veinmarta not too long after you get there. I hope they will provide the necessary aid you required darling. Consider it my gift to you, for everything you’ve done for the Isles and for me. Stay strong Will. Help is on the way.

I await your return as anxiously as the day you left darling.

Yours truly,

Oslo


	20. Ambulances

Dear Oslo,

I’m gladdened to hear the messenger is alright. As for Yva, she positively preened when I told her. Careful, she now holds your official recognition and gratitude over my head like a judge’s gavel. Who knows what she will do with it next… You and Yva are truly too much alike, I fear the powers that be should you ever meet again! And my talents aren’t wasted on you, Oslo. I doubt anything is ever wasted on you. Add to that, I left the front when I did for good reasons. One can only stomach so much death before they feel their humanity slipping. I must say, your company seems to have restored some of what I thought was lost. You make me forget myself, and yet you complete me all the same. Tell me, what magic is it you weave on those long quiet nights in each other’s company? Because it’s spell binding, and I quite think a lifetime would not be enough to enjoy it fully.

Relating to your request, I gathered what I could from the bodies and sent it along with the platoon going north. They have the most means to send it back once they reach the outpost. I hope it can bring closure to the families of the lost.

I didn’t mean to displease you with my plan, however it truly is the only feasible option. We have been careful so far. No incidents to report, but we do seem to have a tail. We’ve glanced at them through the thicket time and time again, but the Peninsula scouts seem to be keeping their distance for whatever reason. We shall stay on guard. We are to reach Veinmarta in a few day’s time, then Lathander province come the end of the month as long as the proceedings go as planned. Thank you, endlessly, for the forces you’ve sent. You have no idea the difference these men will make on the Front. Find me forever in your dept for such a kindness. Though I am not keen on seeing you without my men by your side, I digress that the situation called for it. I am beyond relieved, but will never be fully until I stand by you again.

Yva wanted me to include this in the letter, might it peek your interest. She’s thought of establishing the field hospital within the walls of Veinmarta, and sending out small teams of healers to the front to ensure proper transportation of deeply wounded soldiers. Ambulances, she calls them. The cost, not to mention the healers necessary, would be dozens of times higher, but she felt, as do I, that it might be an interesting alternative to the field hospital on the front lines. She even mentioned posting long-term healers at the military outposts to supplement the doctors there.

Think it through,

Will

PS: Sorry for the shortness of this letter, we must move continually to avoid the scouts, and only manage to steal a few hours of sleep a night. I write this on my watch, and cannot help but see your eyes in the firelight. I cannot wait to see them again, for I believe my memory does not do them justice.


	21. My dearest Will

My dearest Will,

I am delighted to hear you claim that Yva and I bear much similarities. This way, at the very least, I know you travel with someone who won’t let you throw yourself on the sword for the silliest reasons or degrade yourself by thinking you failed somehow in your mission to uphold my name. Of course, it can’t hurt that her healing abilities might come into play with your peculiar proclivity of putting yourself in peril. Consider her your prince-sanctionned babysitter for now. After all, you must return to me in one piece, for I believe our nights of battle planning will be considerably more arduous if I have to collect your numerous body parts before. I jest darling. And in regards to the magic I use on such long evenings, why, how foolish of you to assume that I need anything more than my charm and wit to enrapture you. The arcane arts could only ever offer a half-hearted imitation of such glamour darling, which I confess is all natural in my case. Though I must say, I humbly blush at the thought of you enjoying my coquettish allure. Nevertheless, a lifetime of such admiration and compliments from you would leave me little more than a stunned fool I’m afraid. Granted, I’m sure you would still enjoy me in such a state. I digress darling.

Relating to your plan, I suppose it is true that it was the only practical and applicable solution in the moment. Nonetheless, it doesn’t mean I favour it. I am pleased to know though that you are staying safe and taking your time getting to Veinmarta. As for the forces I sent, well, I only hope they will be enough. Do give my thanks to Fidel and Gasbrought when you see them. They were good company in your absence. One I believe has gone on far beyond my liking darling, for just as you, my heart doesn’t rest until you return to my side. Do make haste Will. I yearn for the sight of you.

You can also tell Yva that her idea is bloody brilliant! A hospital in Veinmarta with these “ambulances” riding out to the Front? Absolutely ingenious! You can further inform her that she has the full backing of the province of Lathander, and that if she needs supplies or funding, the Demon Prince will provide. The cost is no issue. Make it happen.

Godspeed Wilhelm.

Yours truly,

Lo

P.S.: that’s my nickname by the way. Figured we’re close enough now to use nicknames, and to be honest, Oslo is what both my mothers call me, especially when they’re cross, so it’s usually not my favourite.

P.P.S.: Your eyes come to me as well darling. I see them in the rich lavish chocolates served in court for dessert or in the golden honey trickled over warm bread in the early hours of the morning. I miss them.


	22. Dearest Lo

Dearest Lo,

I would never discredit the friendship and tactical advantages of Yva, but you might allow me to admit, in the strict confidentiality of this letter, that I would much rather be riding south with you. Even, if you were to be my, as you coined, my prince-sanctioned babysitter, I believe I would be far less insulted if the prince himself were to take up this mantle of responsibility in my honor. It would definitely change from being a prince's babysitter, though I guess 'Captain of the Naeve' does make it sound much more official..! As for you comments on your magical magnetism, I don' think the term 'enjoy' quite englobes the cheer attraction I cannot help but feel when our hands brush across the maps in the low candle light. Excuse my forwardness, but I simply cannot allow you to live thinking that you are anything less than otherworldly. It would be a stain upon my honour, you see, to have the prince's beliefs clash so obtusely with those of his most devoted servants. And, might I ever have the chance of seeing you, as you put it, a stunned fool, I do think your bemused expression would still endear me as much, if not more than your usual smirk and smoulder.

We're a day's ride from Veinmarta now. We can see it on the horizon, and the ocean beyond. It glimmers in the dying day's light like the finest jewel. Were I able to steal it, you would find it in my duty to offer it to the only person who's beauty might rival it. Thus, do not be surprise, if upon my return, you find the ocean amongst your gold. I will forward your thanks to both Fidel and Gasbrought. I am warmed at the thought of seeing my brothers in arms again, even if my heart shall refuse to still until my gaze settles upon you. Yearn has become to weak a word to describe the ache I feel at the mere thought of your name. Color me a fool if you must, but I do believe not even a tankard of Yva's moonshine could wrestle you from the forefront of my thoughts. I ride south, but my heart stays with you, always.

You should receive a letter from Yva on this very subject rather soon. She has grown tired with piggybacking on my personal missives and has taken it upon herself to direct her more technical questions (and requests) to you directly. The moment you wrote the words 'cost is not an issue' you signed your name with quite a different kind of devil, my dear prince.

Yours always,

Will

PS: I find myself with the greatest of honours of calling upon you so intimately, yet wonder where you might have picked up such a nickname. I cannot help but feel my chest constrict at the thought of any other calling you so. Or, perhaps, might you have fashioned it just for me? I would never presume such things, for the effect on my state of health might be deadly. You already know my shortened namesake, so perhaps I might entertain you with another amusing fact. My middle name is Dragon, after the great poet Basmethiel Dragon, a favourite of my fathers. I don't think he quite foresaw the consequences it might incur, but the nickname my men whispered in low tones when I was a captain on the front, was The Red Dragon, after the color of my tunic. I must admit, I quite prefer my orange uniform.


	23. My dearest Will

My dearest, Will

Prince’s babysitter? Why, I never! You do forget yourself darling. Still, I quite fancy you that way. I’m usually the seducer you see, so it’s delightfully refreshing when the roles are reversed and I get to be one who is courted for once. And such courting you have done darling! Otherwordly, endearing, my beauty rivalling the very seas… You spoil me so Wilhelm. Moreover, likewise, I worship and pine for our long evenings of pouring over maps together, our minds working as one. Yet, as I ponder over these lovely soirées, I’m always reminded of that one side-splitting night where I accidentally spilled ink over both of us while trying to mark something down. I was so embarrassed, but you just smiled and chuckled. And how infectious that chuckle was. We spent the rest of our time trying to wipe it off reports and official documents, all the while furiously giggling with glee. I swear, the next morning, my belly was so sore from all our laughing. Plus, our fingers were stained for so long after that, I thought the ink would never wash away! And when it finally did, I must confess I was slightly disappointed that we no longer bore matching markings on our hands. How ridiculous, I know.

I am glad to hear you draw near Veinmarta darling. I’ve heard it’s quite the lovely city. Do make sure you send me a letter the moment you’ve arrived, so that I may put my worrying to rest. As for Yva, I await her missives with excitement, one I fear will cost me quite the gold. But no matter. Her idea for this hospital will help the court see that this war is not yet beyond our grasp.

I regret that this letter be so short, darling, but the councillors back in the Isles are bustling and chattering around the news of the forces we are sending down to Veinmarta, as well as the rumours that are currently spreading about Yva’s plan for the Glowing Hands. I’m afraid my time is now split between my normal duties as Prince and appeasing and appealing to these bubbling babbling bands of baboons. So very tedious.

Affectionately yours,

Lo

P.S.: I love this new title of yours darling. So tough and virile. It makes my toes curl to think that I have the famous Red Dragon in my service. In regards to my own nickname, my mother, Ingrid, use to employ it when I was but a child. The few friends I had when I was that age would sometimes use it as well. I’m afraid now my life is devoid of such people though, my mother never leaving the Front these days and my old friends… well, they left my side a long time ago. So, I determined that as the prince’s babysitter, it would be your prerogative to use it. And I must say, it feels good to be called Lo again. Thank you darling.


	24. Lo, Lo, Lo…

Dearest, Lo

We’ve reached Veinmarta with little fanfare. Though the peninsula scouts followed us almost to the city walls, our bifurcation East threw them off our trail, and the last few hours of travel were uneventful. The guards greeted us like old friends at the gates, and we were rushed to the manor to speak with the city council there. This letter was sadly not drafted the second I arrived, but rather after a day’s worth of deliberation, debriefing, and debates about the next move of our forces on the front, and the incoming soldiers you sent. The should arrive on the morrow, according to the scouts they sent out, two hundred men, ready for command. I’ve just settled for the evening in one of the rooms in the manor. I insisted on sleeping in the barracks as a man of arms should, but Yva would not hear it, what with my shoulder still healing. Best for it too, because I finally have a desk to write on, instead of propping my shield on my knees as a makeshift surface (hence the horrid handwriting in my recent missives, hopefully this one is more becoming of someone of my station).

If the city is lovely, I have yet to notice. We arrived at dusk, and I only just managed to peer at the docks before we were ushered into closed quarters. After that, I only saw the insides of an office until the early hours of the morning which I glanced at ruefully from my window, and write by now. Beyond me, how you can stomach such bureaucratics for such long periods of time. Remember when I feel asleep standing behind you at the round table with the agricultural sector after we’d spent the night planning an attack on Rhysmind? You ever so subtly dropped an inkwell (on purpose that time) to rouse me from the bored stupor I had been lulled into by the Councillor of Agriculture. You probably would have handled the Veinmartan councillor’s temper with more ease and grace than I did. He insisted on fortifying the city ramparts instead of securing my men hidden in the village East of the Front, and I grabbed him by the lapels to give him a firm shake, hopping to loosen some sense. Thank the Gods Yva was there to keep me from harming the fool… These last few days on such little sleep have made me lose any good sense I might have had. Then again, I have often wanted to level your court opponents with the sharp edge of my blade, so perhaps it simply is in my nature to be of more use as brawn than as brain. Perhaps that is why we make such a pair. You complete me.

Though the nights might seem long separated so, I hold you closer than ever when my fingers get stained with the words of our letters. Know that I shall return to your side within a fortnight. Though I would not skirt my duties, I might have hastened and delegated some tasks as to return sooner. The prospect of going back to a semblance of a rotating routine, of which you as the axis, is an enviable vision, a mirage. I fear if I lay my head, I will wake up on the Front again, surrounded by my dead men, your letters nothing more than ashes scattered to the wind. Mayhap that is why I chose to write to you now, instead of sleeping a few well deserved hours. Knowing you wait for me does wonders for calming my racing thoughts.

Return to your councillors, my prince. Though I banish the thought, I may still survive our separation. They seem rather unable to function without you.

Affectionately,

Your Red Dragon

PS: Lo, Lo, Lo… It rolls of my tongue with such ease that I find myself muttering it below my breath as I stare out East. Lo, Lo, Lo...


	25. One I might savour more

Dearest dragon of mine,

Finally, my woes can be put to rest. To hear that you are now safe behind Veinmarta’s walls grants me a peace of mind you can scarcely fathom darling. I am nevertheless saddened that your arrival had to be so tedious. Isle bureaucracy can be terribly exhausting, I admit. Specifically regarding the Veinmartan councillor though, you deserved to be angry Wilhelm. Your men are hiding for their lives and he only lingers on fortifying an already secure settlement? Absolutely ridiculous. You are correct in assuming of course that I would have handled the situation with more tact, but I fear some of these politicians have grown too fond of refinement and subtlety, and oftentimes respond better to a spot of directness, like you showed him. Moreover, it has always soothed my soul knowing that you stand beside me in court, lest things turn truly south with my adversaries and some muscle is needed. And what muscles you bring to the table darling, with shoulders as wide as a doorframe and arms as large as tree trunks. I imagine all the training you have gone and must go through to keep being in such pristine physical shape and my feeble noble born heart wilts at the exertion it entails. But I love your brawn darling. And you’re right. We do make quite the dashing pair.

My forked tongue has once again proven rather useful, as it seems after several long consecutive nights of speeches and debates, the councillors of the province of Lathander have finally returned somewhat to their regular routine, seemingly sated with the state of our current affairs. For the time being at least. I confess, my mind is incredibly drained and weakened after such never-ending intellectual tirades. Even writing this letter takes effort I thought was not necessary anymore. But knowing that you will read my words and phrases, surely with the brightest shit-eating grin on your face, makes it all worth darling. And though we are miles apart, it comforts me to think that our fingers are stained with the same ink, bridging the impossible distance between us and intertwining our realities. As if you were standing right behind me darling, reading this very letter over my shoulder, your breath inches from mine. My heart aches that it will be another fortnight before my eyes explore your visage once more Will. I miss your counsel, your fiery passion. Even the lack of your physical presence makes itself dreadfully known, the rooms colder without your sizzling companionship. My body colder without your shoulder pressed to mine, our eyes untangling the maps before us. My hands colder without the gentle brush of your fingers on them when sleep tries to steal me away on those long evenings. I miss your heat darling, your dragon fire. I miss it all.

Do not fret about returning to me darling. Even the fates tremble at the prospect of keeping us apart for much longer. And your time on the Front is forever behind you Will. I only wish I was at your side to relieve you of all these troublesome thoughts, however I might.

Delightfully yours,

Lo

P.S.: I’m glad you enjoy my nickname darling, though I do wish you were whispering it for a different reason, one I might savour more...


	26. The creativity with which I can say your name

Loveliest Lo,

Our time apart is finally reaching its end. I pen you this letter not moments before I am meant to depart Veinmarta. I can already taste home like fresh dew and sweet tarts from the castle kitchen. Endlessly thankful am I for the men you have sent. As always, you've proven to be right in terms of beaurocratics, and a little bit of force was what was needed for the city council to move forwards with our plan to secure my men and the healers still on the Front. They left in the early hours of yesterday, waving your flag, my prince, so all may know that it is you who shows them grace and benevolence. Yva has decided to stay behind in Veinmarta and start laying the foundation for the hospital. From what I've heard, your correspondence has proven quite fruitful. Not to mention, if there is anyone I trust to put the city council of Veinmarta in its rightful place, its Yva.

I think the distance and time has aggrandized your memory of me, Lo. Doorframes? Tree trunks? If you continue with that line of thought, I will be no more than a disappointment upon my return. Though, I will admit that a few months on the Front have not done my physique any harm.How did you know the grin I wear every time a letter from you arrives? I'd sworn Yva to secrecy, did she let it slip or was it blackmail in exchange for more funds for the hospital? At this point I guess it matters not, you are already quite aware of my affections. I ache for you like a landlocked sailor aches for the sea. My fingers itch for the chance to brush yours once more, when we stand too close in the castle halls. Say, would I be a fool, Lo, to tell you that you have singlehandedly upturned my life in ways I had never thought imaginable? That your last letter left me a mess, of sorrow for the distance that separates us still, of longing for our reunion, of passion for the flourish you write my moniker with? I could not help but notice a few letters ago that you put a comma after 'Dearest' and that single jot of ink upon parchment has occupied my thoughts unendingly since. Lo, I'm not sure even my skill with a quill quite translates the depth of my admiration, of my pride, or my feelings, some of which I still find myself incapable of putting down on paper for fear that they be immortalized there, and with it, all hope I may hold for the future. I will write only this, then: I am returning to you, Lo. Not as your Captain of the Naeve, not as your friend and confidante, but as a man terribly at a loss of what to do except what feels like the inevitable. What feels right. What I want to do. Lo, my dearest Lo, will you take me as I am?

I ride East this very moment, with the wind, on these wings you have given me.

Yours, in more ways than you know,

Will

PS: Give me a chance, and I won't disappoint in the creativity with which I can say your name, and make you say mine.


	27. The Wrong Choice

“Did you hear the news, your Highness?”

The bubbles shifted in the bath. Lo lifted one of his legs out from the water, relishing the sight of small rivulets running down his deep sapphire skin. With a flick of his head, he directed the chatty servant, who started vigorously scrubbing his calf and shin. Behind him, another one was attending his hair, gently cleaning the long luscious locks. The prince let his head tilt back and his eyes close, relinquishing himself to the soothing experience.

“No, I’m afraid I’m still quite in the dark about the day’s gossip. So please darlings, enlighten me.”

“Well,” came the voice behind his head, “people are saying that today is the day the Captain of Naeve will be arriving back in Cebrook.” Lo’s body gave a small flinch at the mention of that title, small yet big enough that when he opened his eyes, he could see a slight smirk painted on the face of the boy attending to his delicate foot.

“Really?” the prince let out, falsely nonchalant, shutting his eyes once more. “I wasn’t aware. And what makes you so sure of this Vizima?”

“Oh I hold no certainties on this chatter, your Higness.” said the girl, focused on rinsing out Lo’s curls, careful not to receive the end of a horn in her face. “The courtiers are only speculating because of how much time has passed since Captain Tildree announced he was leaving Veinmarta. By all accounts, he should be returning today.” Lo could feel his heart beating faster at that name. Captain Tildree. Will.

“And what about you Leonos?” the prince’s gaze turning to the boy at the end of the bath. “Have you heard the same rumours?”

“Yes, your Highness.” spoke the servant with deference, his eyes low to the ground, yet nonetheless bearing that sly smile. “He will come back today. That is what everybody is saying.” Lo was burning up now, either from the bath or from this revelation. Will was coming back. Today. He couldn’t quite believe it, couldn’t wrap his mind around it. He would see his face again. His handsome face.

“You must be quite happy about that, your Highness. You two are fairly close as I remember. All those long nights spent together in intimate bli—” Lo’s head snapped upwards, his hair falling out of Vizima’s hands. He pulled his leg back in the bath, his whole body seemingly wanting to collapse on itself. It had come from Leonos, the words having escaped a teasing grin, but as soon as the boy saw the prince’s reaction, he realized he had gone too far. Lo stared him down with parental reproach.

“Your memory seems to be faulty Leonos. Perhaps you should work on that, amongst the clear liberty you feel you are permitted when taking to royalty.” The prince’s eyes were daggers, piercing this boy’s boldness and killing it on the spot. Only for a split second though, after which Lo let his expression soften and gave the image of stretching out in the bath, seemingly relaxed once again. “Now darlings, leave me be. I can do the rest. You’re dismissed.” he said placidly. Vizima and Leonos both rose at once, bowing their head in obedience before turning and heading for the door of the prince’s chambers. Just as they crossed the threshold, Lo heard a small murmur exchanged between the two servants.

“What in Lathander’s name did you that for?”

***

Finally done with his lengthy bath, Lo thoroughly dried himself and slowly made his way for his bedchamber. In there, he shifted his attention to his wardrobe, another room practically the same size as this one, and filled to the brim with clothes. There were baggy blouses, fancy overcoats, warm jackets, some innumerable pairs of shoes, poufy pants and slender ones. All unimportant to Lo, for his attention shifted to the ensemble laid on the small bench in front of him. A black velvet doublet, complete with dark gold décor in lace and a plunging neckline that lead the gaze to the prince’s toned midriff. Sleek black pants that contoured his legs and derrière, embellishing them in only good tailoring can. Soft black knee high leather boots with a short heel, to give him a bit more height. And to complete the look, an ample and almost ludicrous amount of jewelry, all in glowing real gold, from dozens of rings to chain bracelets to long necklaces that lead the eye even further down Lo’s chest, not to mention the accessories exclusively reserved for his horns, gold chains dangling between them, attached to clasps and rather large piercings as well. The prince had chosen all of this in advance, specifically for this moment. For Will’s return. Lo had figured the Captain deserved as much, seeing him in such racy and seductive accoutrements after such a long journey away from home. Gleefully, he put it all on, taking his time to make sure everything looked practically perfect in every way. When he was done, he turned to the large floor length mirror in the room and admired his reflection, absolutely stunning as it was. And as he looked himself once more over with narcissistic pride, his mind snagged on what Leonos had said to him but hours earlier, on the words that had been turning over and over in his head. _You two are fairly close_ … Lo felt the air get thicker in his lungs, his mirrored self no longer staring back at him with excitement, instead with grim resolve in his eyes. If he were naïve, he would be asking himself how Leonos found out, how he knew what Lo felt about Will, even when Lo didn’t even know what it was himself. But the prince had been raised in court. This wasn’t his first rodeo. He was awfully aware that people pry and talk and gossip, and that it only took one glance of his and Will’s interactions to get courtiers speculating and chattering. About the Demon Prince and the Red Dragon. About their rumoured… entanglement. But that’s all they were, just rumours. Nothing had happened yet. It was all flirting in good fun, harmless. There was no proof to any of these whispers, for if so, Lo would have lost his position as prince long ago, his adversaries in court hungry for any ammunition against him. They’d tarnish his name and drag it through the mud until he would be forced to live ration by ration. Not to mention Will’s tenure as Captain of the Naeve would come to an abrupt and sad end. The province of Lathander wasn’t exactly accepting of these kinds of relationships you see. Amorous banter between two men was generally considered innocuous, but anything beyond that would have been reprimanded. Rather severely, in Lo’s opinion. And that’s why his hands were so suddenly sweaty, why his breathing was shallow, why his heart felt like it would burst out from his chest. For he knew what he wanted, _who_ he wanted. He just didn’t know if he had the courage to take it.

***

Sitting on the windowsill, Lo contemplated the Isles’ sunset, oranges and purples splashed across the heavens in a fiery canvas. By now, he had gotten the official report that the Captain of the Naeve had returned to Cebrook today, late in the afternoon. Of course, his arrival would have been met with questions on the success of the mission and on what had happened, not to mention the numerous meetings and debriefings he would have to attend before he would be free to wander. Thus, it was now dusk, the sky ablaze, and any second now, Lo was nervously awaiting a knock on his door. So the fates provided. _Thunk, thunk, thunk_ , came the sound of knuckles hitting wood.

“Your Highness, it’s Captain Tildree.” said a familiar deep voice. “May I come in?” Lo’s body reacted to those words at once, warmth spreading throughout his limbs, setting his fingertips seemingly aflame. He swiftly got to his feet, and with as much confidence as he could muster, tried to speak without sounding like a complete blithering drooling idiot.

“Just a second darling, I’m getting ready!” And with that, the prince briskly walked to his chaise lounge, having prepared this moment in his mind since his morning bath. He sat down on the fainting couch and gently propped his legs up and to the side, resting on the cushion on top of each other. He let his left arm casually repose on the arm rest of the sofa, and with a quick flick of his head, repositioned his long curls to frame his visage. His other arm he allowed to trail the length of his body, settling his hand gently on his thighs. As a last touch, Lo leaned back just a little to support himself on the cushions, giving the impression of nonchalance, and even without a mirror in front of him, he knew he looked like the fanciest and most elegant whore in town. As precisely calculated of course.

“Alright darling, you can come in!” the prince called out seductively. With a click of the handle, the door swung inwards on its hinges, and before Lo was a most stunning sight for the sorest eyes. Seemingly having forgotten his height during his absence, the prince watched as almost seven feet of man entered the room, Will towering gloriously above everything else inside Lo’s bedchambers. The captain’s armor was worn and messy, yet it nonetheless caressed his form so favourably. And Lo had been right in his letters, for seeing Will again, he realized how built the man was, his shoulders immensely wide and his arms practically bursting out of the constrictive leather. Satisfied with his assessment of Will’s physique, the prince’s eyes settled on the captain’s face. The face he had longed for all those lonely weeks. A face seemingly chiseled by the gods, yet clearly battle worn and now pleasantly softened by the appearance of a smile. And those eyes. Kindly, cocky, protective, impossibly all at once. A rich brown, like two small hazelnuts freshly gathered in the spring, at times with darker shadows, soaked earth after a thunderstorm, and at times with bright flecks, melting caramel on a hot summer day. Taking this all in, all that Will was, all that he had missed from him, had yearned for, Lo couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t sit still. The captain had barely taken two steps into the bedchambers before the prince ditched his nonchalant façade, rose from his seat and ran to him, crashing into Will in a clumsy hug, his arms naturally reaching out and placing themselves around Will’s neck. Burying his face into the captain’s shoulder, Lo cheekily smiled as he felt Will’s arms surround his waist in response to the spontaneous embrace, the captain’s head leaning to nest in Lo’s shoulder as well. The two stood there, perfectly still in their fervent caress. Their breathing slowed, relaxed, eventually matching, their chests rising as one. Time became inconsequential. As if this was the very last time they would see each other, the very last time they would share the same air. Yet nothing was further from the truth, for at last, the Red Dragon and the Demon Prince were reunited.

“I missed you so much darling.” Lo exhaled, all his usual filters having been dissolved at the sight of Will in his doorframe. There was a long pause as Will took a deep breath.

“I missed you too… Lo.” The sound of his nickname stretched the prince’s lips into even more of a shit-eating grin, one Will luckily couldn’t see with Lo’s head on his shoulder. But Lo knew that his smile was being reciprocated on the captain’s face, who’s whole body seemed to have come to life as that name slipped his lips. Lo felt it, felt this man radiate warmth and bliss beneath his arms. And simply at the thought of him. How wonderful an ego boost. Lo could feel his body now as well, as it seemingly was set alight, his chest blossoming with ardor, and without his customary verbal boundaries, his mouth let out a torrent of words, things he had wanted to say to Will since the day he had left.

“I have so much to tell you darling! So much to catch up on, and so little time what with our endless responsibilities! Oh oh oh, like the fact that the Duke of Penborough made advances to me at dinner but a fortnight ago, and how the Duchess of Penborough is potentially having an affair with a lowly merchant! What a wreck of a couple am I right? Plus, apparently, the Mage Queen of Eldath and the Mage Queen of Lathander are having a bit of a… quarrel right now, so to speak, though no one seems to know about what! I can only assume I might be the center of that dispute I’m afraid, what with my lineage and such, but nevertheless, I’m sure I’ll get more information on that whole situation rather soon! Oh oh, and, _and_ how we’ve gotten reports of my mother on the Front! They detail her exploits in battle and how she is still fighting the good fight for the sake of the Isles. Truly inspiring stuff darling, I was quite impressed with her combat prowess myself! I only wish she’d come back soon, she’s been gone awfully long at this point and—” And as Lo rambled on, he started to pull away from the hug, only to find that Will’s arms around his waist did not budge. Lifting his head, the prince brought his face in front of the captain’s, confused as to why the man wasn’t letting go, before Will’s mouth pressed against his, interrupting him mid-sentence. It was wholly unexpected, but Lo gave in to the fiery kiss, Will’s arms holding him tight and cradling the back of his head, inciting him deeper into the embrace. Short lived but incredibly impassioned, it ended as both men gently drew apart, their breath inches from one another, mingling in the impossibly small distance between them. Though the prince’s body had responded in kind to Will’s advance, it reflected naught but pure animalistic instinct, for Lo’s brain was at moment entirely short-circuiting. Of course, he was not too conceited to wholeheartedly admit that this is what he had wanted from the very beginning. For a gorgeous and kind man like Will to want him and to take that first step… to kiss him like he had kissed him… why, it was truly a dream come true! Lo had envisioned this moment in the darkest hours of the night, had lost sleep over this fantasy that he had thought impossible. But now he was here. It had really happened. And like the tide turning, his thoughts swung back to his morning bath, to what Leonos had said. To those dangerous insinuations. Rumours and gossip that could ruin Will’s life, not to mention his own career that he had worked so hard to obtain. If he proceeded with this, it would only be deadly ammunition for his enemies, one they would not hesitate to use to burn his crops and salt his fields. But he wanted it. Had wanted _this_ his whole life, this kind of companionship that left him feeling giddy and gleeful, that gave him butterflies in his stomach. These two realities spun in Lo’s mind, like angels and demons at war in his psyche. They tore at his brain, leaving his hands shaking and his breaths quivering. His gaze settled on Will’s face and he looked at this man who would do anything to protect him. And Lo chose. Lo chose his usual routine, the perfectly practiced speech he gave every noble who fell too hard for him in court when he was just seducing them for information. He chose his defense mechanism, he chose to lie to Will. And he chose wrong.

“Oh… well, that was eventful darling.” Lo let out casually, his momentary anxiety now replaced with convincing insouciance. “Would you mind?” he said, pointing to Will’s arms.

“Oh, sorry! I didn’t know I was still holding you.” Will responded with a sheepish grin, letting the prince go and taking a good look at his face. A face that was now indifferent, placid, apathetic, and no longer caught up in the heat of the moment. Will felt his stomach drop.

“Is something wrong Lo? Did I do something wrong, did I go too far?”

“No no darling, it’s just… well… I think there’s been a misunderstanding of sorts…” Lo said nonchalantly, the lies coming to him painfully and yet so easily “How can I say this gently…”

“I thought this is what you wanted…” cut off Will, his face now consumed with worry and realization about what was happening. “Your letters were so bold you know, and my answers bolder, I, I… I thought this is what _we_ wanted…”

“…Darling…” Lo answered, well practiced fake pity welling up in the golden pools of his eyes. “You know I flirt with everyone. It’s what I do, it’s what makes me so alluring in court! And, well, sometimes, I get a little too into it, and oftentimes when that happens… well, the other person falls under false impression that I am actually interested in them… you know, romantically and stuff…” The prince watched as Will’s face fell slack with shock, and Lo felt his heart break a little.

“So… you’re, you’re saying that you’re not into me? That you don’t want to be with me at all? That _all_ of that was just flirtatious fun?” Lo looked at the man in front of him, looked at the desperation in his eyes, and double downed on the lie.

“I’m afraid so darling… I’m terribly sorry, I do have a bad habit of doing that.” The prince said with a fake and cringy apologetic smile. Will stared at him in disbelief, heartache threatening to make use of his lachrymal glands.

“But the things you said to me…”

“I know darling, like I said, I get soooo into flirting.” Lo quickly responded, finding it harder to keep up this façade by the minute, his own heart collapsing in on itself from all the anguish he was causing to the man he wanted to be with.

“But… I… I don’t understand… I just don’t Lo.” Will stammered.

“Oh darling, it’s not that complex. You’re a gorgeous man and a great guy Wilhelm, but flirting is just harmless fun, and I’m afraid I’m just not interested in you in _that_ way. At least not in the way people keep talking about darling.” Lo gave a quick chuckle at that last remark, having meant it to be a passing quip, but one look at Will’s face and he knew he had let slip too much. The captain’s visage quickly relaxed into a canvas of concealed anger and understanding.

“I see…” Will spoke in a low tone, his voice barely a whisper. His face was perfectly calm now, too calm, as if hiding something.

“You do?” Lo said nervously. “That’s great darling, I’m so glad!”

“Oh yes my prince, I understand. I understand fully. And I’m sorry”

“Oh please darling, remember our promise! No need to apologize for what you di—”

“I’m not apologizing for what I did.” Will cut him off, his words coming in hot now. “I’m not sorry I kissed you. I’m apologizing because I’m sorry that you think it has to be this way my prince.” And with that, Lo knew that Will had figured it out. Understood that Lo desperately wanted to be with him, if only the consequences were not so grave. Understood that this would be unspoken between them. But what Lo didn’t comprehend was why he was disapproving of this decision. Why Will couldn’t see that he was doing this to be cautious, to prevent bad things from happening to both of them.

“I’ll see myself out, your Highness.” said Will, turning for the door while Lo had been consumed by his thoughts. The prince snapped out of it and walked after the captain.

“Wait, Wilhelm, we can talk a little—”

“Why the hell are you so scared Lo?” Will interrupted, turning back to the prince. Taken aback, Lo stopped dead in his tracks, recoiling in surprise. “Why are you sooo scared of all them, of what they’ll say?” Will stared down Lo as the latter softly sputtered in search of a response. “When are you going to live your life the way you want to live it, and not the way others think you should?” Those words hit Lo like a blow to the head, the whole room starting to spin from under him. He watched as Will righted himself, his face flushed with barely contained frustration. Lo had never seen him like this, especially when the anger seemed directed towards him. It was terrifying.

“Your Highness.” The captain said through clenched teeth, and with a short and stiff bow, swiftly exited the room, shutting the door behind him. Lo stood there for seconds, minutes, hours, he lost count, just staring at the door, at where the man he had come to trust and love despite himself had stormed out. And after what seemed like an eternity, he returned to his chaise lounge, only this time, there was no posing. This time, the cushions were used to soak up the warm droplets streaming down his face. This time, he wasn’t waiting for anyone. And Lo realized with agony that he had been presented the choice between being safe and being happy. And he had chosen being safe. And he had chosen poorly.


	28. Rest Leave

Your Highness,   
  
If it would please you, I request a short rest leave to recuperate from my travels. My shoulder still ails me, and I believe it in the best interest of your safety that I completely recover before returning to my post in full capacity. I have briefed my men and they will continue with the rounds they were assigned in my absence until I am fit to return. The royal healer had insisted on at least a week of rest during my debriefing, but I had brushed him aside in my rush to return to you. I see now that perhaps some distance and perspective are in order.   
  
I will still be present at all meetings regarding the Front and military dispatch, but will be missing from your personal retinue until you see fit.   
  
Yours, in all capacities but one,   
  
Captain Tildree of the Naeve 


	29. A Note on Standards

Dear Wilhelm,

I cannot help but notice that you were… particularly lively tonight during the festivities. Indeed, you seem to have been drinking your fair share of the wine that was being served during the evening, as exhibited by your boisterous manners and your spontaneous dancing. I’d never seen you like that before, Wilhelm. Quite a sight! But I don't blame you darling, the wine was quite good, myself having indulged in it, as you can surely tell when reading this by my sloppy handwriting. And to think I thought your drunken letter was badly written! Guess I overestimate myself sometimes it seems. Though I must confess, my interest was truly peaked tonight not when I saw that you were dancing, but when I saw who you were dancing with! My my, the Marquis of Meidasso himself! And what a catch darling! Young, handsome, long flowing hair and smaller than you with noble blood… Obviously you have a type. And let’s not forget the fact that he’s been making googly eyes at you in every meeting ever since he’s arrived in court. Low hanging fruit I guess. You didn’t think I hadn’t noticed that, did you darling? Plus, I was so terribly overjoyed and delighted to see that you applied what dancing moves I had taught to you when we’d get bored on our map planning nights. Truly, so happy they were of good use to you to dance with someone else. I noticed as well that you threw in a couple of your own… rather suggestive moves in there. Not as refined as what I showed you, but judging from the tent in the Marquis’ trousers, I gather he enjoyed himself. And how could he not, with you having pulled out the most… lewd ensemble I have ever seen you were darling. Even the leather of your amor isn’t as tight as that jacket was, your big arms practically bursting through, and those trousers were so form fitting I could’ve spotted your perfectly sculpted arse from across the room! Not to mention the fact that you stole my signature look with that plunging neckline in your shirt that showed your… your chest and… your chiseled stomach and your… oh never mind, you get the point!

I know what you’re fucking doing darling. And it’s… well… uh, damn you Will.

Angrily yours,

Lo

P.S.: don’t think I didn't notice you staring at me all night darling, even when dancing with the Marquis. Your gaze is intoxicating, but gods are you infuriating.


	30. Leading Man

Dear Prince Oslo,

Did I catch your eye? Good to know some of my efforts aren’t in vain. I do guess the Court of Lathander prefers to look, but not touch. Drink, but not intoxicate. You see, even when off duty, as I so luckily was last night, a Captain such as myself needs to keep a certain composure, a certain control. My actions are never accidental, only purely deliberate. My pace is the one I set, and the one I alone choose to walk to - or, dance to, when I am lucky enough to find an appropriate partner. I lead, Oslo. Wether you choose to follow, is up to you. Some do it more willingly than others. Low hanging fruit, sure, but you retired early my Prince. The evening went on for hours after you faked that headache (didn’t think I’d catch that? You always used that excuse to come see me). After the Marquis of Meidasso, there was the Duke of Halltruit, and the Lord of Tyunplit… Should I go on?

I can only imagine what you think of me now, making up all these fanciful, erotic, fantasies in your mind of what I did with those men? Let me put your mind at ease, even if mine has been nothing but turmoil since you turned me away. When the evening came to an end, and the Marquis subtly suggested we retire to his bed chamber, I walked him back to the guest wing, and bid him goodnight. I slept alone, in the horridly uncomfortable bunks in the guard barracks, wishing very much a different man has asked of me the very same thing.

Did I get your attention? Did I cause a reaction? Did I make you feel something Lo? Anything? Actually look me in the eye during a meeting, and pretend to my face that you don’t want me. The Marquis pants weren’t the only thing standing to attention that night Lo, I’m not blind. And neither am I to the cautious glances in the hall after the meetings with the war council, or to you sending your servant to ask about my recovery and when I shall return, acting as if you didn’t care. The palace healer teased me endlessly about how many times you’ve gone knocking asking about when I’d be fit for duty.

If you want me, Lo, come ask me yourself.

Until then, I’ll be waiting for you to muster the courage to face down your court opponents on something more important than agricultural taxes.

Your humble servant,

Wilhelm

PS: I’m glad you liked the ensemble so much. Pity you couldn’t watch me take it off.


	31. Please Understand

Dear Will,

I know we said we wouldn’t apologize to each other anymore darling, so I’ll just leave it at this: my previous missive was clearly immature and unworthy of the title of prince, written in a drunken fit of jealousy. I saw you enjoying the festivities with another and I didn’t like it. There, that’s all you’re getting. Don’t push your luck.

As for my rejection of your advances Wilhelm, well, it seems to me you believe it to be a façade, a falsehood, a dishonesty. You think sohighly of yourself darling, that I would still be enraptured by you even when I explicitly state the contrary. And how lowly you must think of me darling, that I would deceive you like that. And for what? What reasons give me the strength to lie to you, to push you away when according to you, all I want is to pull you in? Would it be because I’m scared? Scared that if we entertain such a relationship and the wrong people find out, it would ruin both of our careers? Would it be because I fear that such a liaison could be our downfall, could lead us to lose everything, ending up begging for scraps on the streets? Or could it even be because I am afraid darling, afraid that my opponents could even use our love to hurt us, not just our positions? Could twist it to further their agenda and to destroy our lives, even going so far as to end them? No, surely, these are trivial worries that an air headed prince such as myself does not concern himself with…

I care for you darling. More than you know, more than you realize. And that is why it has to be this way.

Heartachingly yours,

Lo

P.S.: I spoke to the healer and it seems you’ve been cleared for active duty and had failed to mention this me. Therefore, as your prince, I order you to immediately regain your position in my retinue, as my personal bodyguard and advisor. I await impatiently your return darling, for I have many a task ready for you upon your arrival. You’ve been off on your vacation for far too long. Get ready.


	32. Fate Be Damned

Dearest Lo,

Pushing my luck is how we happen to find ourselves here. I won’t apologize either, for my action the night of the ball. Perhaps it was childish of me to search you out with such garish techniques. Or perhaps, you keep a man of strategy in your ranks. Either way, to see you write jealousy, with the quiver in the swoop of the Y, is more reward than I had hoped.

You underestimate my strength of will, dear Prince, if you think your facsimile dismissal will have wained my drive in the slightest. I was caught off guard, that I shall grant you, but as you’ve stated, it is time for me to return to your side. And return I shall, with force, and perhaps more of those tight breaches you seemed to appreciate so much.

Fear is the fool’s fate, Lo. Some people are worth falling for, fear and fate be damned.

Yours,

Will


	33. To Fall

Lo,

You should have just let me take the fall. I appreciate the gesture, but my duties demand I protect you, until my hands can no longer carry my sword. Had it been stripped of my body, such as my title, than so be it. I am not worth the pettiness of a Duke, my prince. My position is not worth yours.

To see you stand up to that bastard was gratification enough. Needless was your intervention before the Queen, however appreciated it might be. I’m starting to see sense in your argument, that to pursue an ‘us’ would put us in perilous traits. However Lo, if today was not enough proof, let me write it out plainly: you are worth every second, every title, ever crest upon my uniform. I would die a thousand deaths if I could have you in my arms for only a day. Is that kind of love not worth the risk?

I should be asleep, but I didn’t want us to leave tomorrow without you knowing.

Yours,

Will


	34. To Fly

Will,

You sell yourself so short darling. Not worth the pettiness of a Duke? Why, my stand in front of the Queen today only attests to the contrary. Moreover, I am certainly not so arrogant to let you defend my honour without returning the favour darling. It’s quite bizarre actually. I’m used to dealing in deception and lies, to work around problems, to keep a pretty placid face, always in hopes of helping others of course. But you... you bring out a different side of me Wilhelm. You make me want to take a stand, to shout from the rooftops when things are unjust. To confront those who would oppose me and my... decisions on companionship, shall we put it. It’s quite refreshing. But ultimately nonetheless impossible darling, for even you have seen now what dangers lie on that path. Still, what a lovely path it would be though to walk along together, hand in hand. It felt so amazing today to think that someone had my back, come rain or shine. Perhaps... perhaps the risk isn’t as terrifying as I once thought it was.

Congratulations darling, for you have successfully befuddled my usually calm mind. My willpower wanes when you write such wonderful words Wilhelm. To lay in your arms... well, for your sake, pray it does not happen, for I’m afraid my rather large horns leave very little space to not be impaled darling.

Ever confusingly yours,

Lo


	35. To Want

Lo,

Perilous it might be, I cannot help myself but think that with you by my side, the world would be a paltry enemy. Between the both of us, we got to take a duke down a peg, and lose nothing more than our pride, which seems just compensation seeing as it could have been my head. Imagine the wave we could make together, hand in hand. Our naysayers would tremble in fear! But, I see your point. I understand the circumstances, trust me Lo, I do. This world might not be ready for us, but I feel I was put on it for one reason and one reason alone, Lo. To have you. Maybe we don’t shout it from the rooftops, maybe we don’t give bastard dukes their just punishment, but perhaps we not keep each other from something so good, so true, either.

You whisper my name and I come apart, Lo. You do something to me I cannot put into words. There are forces in this world I shall never understand, and the power you hold over me is one of them, but one I gladly comply to. There are some things in this life I am willing to give up: my title, my sword. My life. You, Lo, are not one of them.

Yours, every which way,

Will

PS: I happen to like your horns, life threatening qualities and all.


	36. To Have

Will,

Your infallible optimism is infectious darling, I will grant you that. The way you talk of standing against the world... why, it makes me want to charge head first into battle, with you by my side. I understand now that the position of Captain was correctly appointed to you darling. Your words are like a siren’s song to my heart Will, pulling me ever more into deeper waters. And were I anyone else or were I in a different position, I would have surrendered long ago and drowned in your arms happily.

How am I expected to lead my people decisively and with a steady mind when but one letter from you sends my world spiralling into bittersweet chaos. How can I be anything when your sentences unravel me so, leaving only the raw truth of my being behind. And the truth Will, the truth I’ve owed you this whole time and since our kiss, is that I want to be with you. Desperately. Fiercely. Perilously... But I’m so afraid darling. So scared of what they’ll do if they find out. I don’t want... I can’t... I won’t see you hurt on my behalf.

I know I’m breaking our promise darling, but I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Will. I wish I was as brave as you. Alas, it seems I am but a love stricken coward.

Impossibly yours,

Lo

P.S. : I think you are the very first person to compliment my horns darling. Thank you.


	37. Slowly

Lo,

Though I was hoping for a confession whispered against my lips, I guess letters are easier to cherish than a memory. I rejoice, but its bittersweet. To ask you to give up a position you’ve worked so hard to attain would be selfish of me, and I apologize for ever giving you the impression that I might (an you must accept it, seeing as I’ve accepted yours outside of our promise). I am undone, Lo, by your words, by your impossible promises. You bring me to my knees with a single look, and to my knees I gladly go, in service of you. Lo, there are so many forbidden things I wish to tell you, and I lament the Gods everyday we are kept appart by this garish political riff. I know the sensible thing, the safe thing, to do would be to end things before we go too far, before we cannot go back. But Lo, I am so far gone already. The edge is but a memory and free falling is a nostalgic memory.

I would never ask of you to give up anything in this world for me. If I could, I would wrap the world itself in silk and present it to you, but things persist to stand in the way of my great plans. So try as I might, I understand. I understand, and I hate it. I hate it more than I’ve hated the enemies who have slain my men, burned our villages and taken lives. Lo, I hate it with gut wrenching power, a deep and terrible promise for swift revenge. You cannot fathom the depth of the hate with which I despise the distance that separates us even as we stand so close. But beyond that hate Lo, more than that hate, I love you.

So I will stand my ground, at an appropriately dictated distance, and love you from afar so I do not taint you with the hatred that seems out of my skin like sweat. I will wait for you, always, Lo. Until the skies fall upon our heads, and the kingdom is turned upon itself and every obstacle that might have stood in our way is turned to ash. And then? Then I will love you in all the ways you are meant to be loved.

Slowly, reverently, entirely.

Will


	38. Reverently

Will,

Gods help me you are relentless! I confess in my previous missive that your words enrapture and entrance me so and in response, you send me a letter fraught with what I can only describe as overindulgent affections to my person! Really darling, you overdo it to an extent I thought impossible to reach! Though I must admit, it brought quite the smile to my face... 

You are too good for me darling. I don't know what I did in my past lives to deserve you, but it must have been overly magnanimous, for you are a rainbow in the rain, the sun through the clouds, a blooming rose amidst the snow. My Red Dragon, guarding so fiercely his gold-adorned horned horde. To hear you speak of such hatred for our rather queer situation and with such passion... it makes my heart flutter darling. For believe me when I write that such anger is known to me, a familiar and constant feeling since that day of the Hunt, when, as I recall, you threw me over your shoulder rather unceremoniously with purposeful yet peculiar placement of your hands as I seem to remember. I liked it though.

Now, go to bed darling! I'm afraid that if we write to each other much longer tonight, our servants will crack and open one of our missives out of curiosity, only to find that the Captain of the Naeve seems to be rather... impassioned and amorous this evening. "Slowly, reverently, entirely"? You do have a professional reputation to uphold darling.

Oh, and since you've probably been waiting for this this whole time... I love you too darling. And though I may not show it physically and though we must stay apart for our sakes, know that my love runs deeper than you could ever imagine Will. I love you.

Entirely. Reverently. And maybe one day if you're lucky, I'll get the chance to love you slowly.

Good night darling,

Lo


	39. Entirely

Dearest Lo,

Your words soothe a warrior’s heart. But yes, sleep, before I launch into yet another endless tirade about, as you said, our queer situation. Rest, my sweet prince, for we ride hard at dawn.

I will be waiting for you at the castle gates, my love.

Yours always,

Will


	40. New Foes

Lo,

I dislike everything about this situation. First, we ride hard for a week in horrible conditions, winds and rain enough to cow a smarter man (or should I say, one not carrying out the will of a Mage Queen…), we arrive in the late evening to the frostiest of welcomes from the Dukes men, our own guard exhausted from the travel, and now we’ve been separated. I don’t like this Lo, not at all. I know we’re supposed to be rebuilding a relationship with the man, but to agree to enter the lion’s den with not even me at your side? That’s simply foolish. I don’t know what game he is playing at, but going along cannot lead to anything good.

I send you the squire we brought along. If he cannot stay with you, he can at least bring you my continual rejection of the current circumstances, and, we know where his loyalties lie. I don’t trust the Duke’s men, Lo. And I don’t trust them with your safety. What ever Lathander said, this trade agreement is not worth your life. Be careful.

I can spot the window of your rooms from the stables we’ve been so graciously allowed to stay in. You should have heard Fidel complain, ‘’Worse than our accommodations at the Front. And I slept in a ditch once!’’, but now he’s passed out cold on his bedroll… I can spot your shadow against the lamplight. Second floor, the room facing the gardens, with the balcony, right? Just to see your shadow appeases my heart.

If you need me, I am at your side at your word.

And until then, I am with your in spirit, my love.

Will


	41. Lie in Wait

Will,

I realize that this situation is otherwise not ideal, but don’t fret darling. The Duke is a smart man. He knows he gains more from this apology than to continue a petty political argument with me. After all, it’s not everyday a Prince excuses himself to such a low member of the nobility. He’s just making the most of it, savouring the spectacle of guilt and regret that we will have to put on for him.

As for my isolation... well, I can’t say that I enjoy being this far from you, but I assure you darling, my safety is not compromised. Only a fool would strike at me in his own home, placing himself as the first suspect.

Try to get some sleep darling. I can see the stables from my room and your little pitter patter of nervous pacing is quite adorably obvious. Though, if you are truly and utterly preoccupied for my well being, you could always pay your Demon Prince a visit. Just knock before you enter, for I usually sleep with a distinctive lack of clothing and I would be so terribly and awfully embarrassed if you were to accidentally catch me in such a lewd situation. Terribly embarrassed darling.

May my eyes settle upon your face soon my love,

Lo


	42. Your Humble Servant

Dear Lo,

Smart seems a bit of a stretch. His ethics seem lacking, and his goals, mostly monetary. My father would have a stronger words, but scoundrel should suffice for the moment… Say the word and this spectacle will meet a swift end by the edge of my sword. I’m still on edge Lo, as would be anyone in my position. I barely leave your side when we are on the Isles, within the walls of the castle, and here you ask me to stand down while you alone enter the lion’s den? Nervous is the about as lightly as you can put it.

The Duke has men posted at the end of the road that lines the house, and I’m not sure they would take kindly to my polite demands for passage. Yet, for a chance to catch you alone? It definitely seems worth the risk. Don’t know, is what you wrote, right? Just waltz in upon my arrival? Why, my Prince, have we become so intimate?

If I may not strike the Duke physically, to abscond with his pride in the midst of his sheets might be as close to revenge as I can get. How you tempt me, pretty prince. Are you by any chance trying to distract me from my unease with the appealing guise of romance? You do know my weaknesses so well.

To infiltrate the house would go against the Duke’s orders, if I am caught it might cost us greatly. However, if I were to have orders from the crown prince…

Your humble servant,

Will


	43. Politics

Will,

Me, using lustful trickery to appease your ever-vigilant nerves because I know the thought of me nude sends your mind spiralling into hundreds of amorous scenarios? Why, I would never dream of it darling! It’s so below me...

Though I must chastise you Wilhelm. A swift end at the edge of your sword? Please darling, this isn’t some bar fight or a tousle between soldiers. This is politics. This is lying, deceiving, waiting for the opportune moment. This is smiling and laughing when really all you want to do is punch the person in front of you. It takes time and patience. It’s an art darling. It’s my specialty. Trust me Will. I know what I’m doing.

Oh, and as well, since you seem so pig-headed on being a worry wort, I passed the order to the Duke’s men that they are to let you into the house, so that the Captain of the Naeve may visit me during these moonlit hours and witness of my safety and well being with his very own eyes. As you insinuated, they would never refuse a direct order from the Crown Prince himself. Really though darling, I confess that I am the true winner here. A chance to slight the Duke by simply spending time with you in his house? Lo two, Duke zero. I’m sure you’ll enjoy the upgrade from stables to bedchambers as well.

I await your knock on my door,

Lo


	44. Patience and Other Virtues

Will was a patient man. His father had taught him early on to stop and admire the little things. To take the time to appreciate the elegance of a rose’s petals, the tiniest of pauses between the notes of a song, and the imminence of rain when the air was thick with impending showers. He knew to take in the anticipation, the rising of want turning to need as the event horizon approached, to wear it like a second skin. He could almost touch it, taste it. His mother, on the other hand, had taught him to know when to let his patience run out. Sometimes, you couldn’t let things come to you. You had to grab him by the horns and make him see sense.

The captain of the Naeve rose from the sleeping mat a servant had had the decency to lay out in the hay of the stable. The house of the Duke of Mirtimbug was spacious, though apparently not to the point of welcoming inside the guards of the distinguished Prince of Lathander. Considering their already precautious standings with the Duke, Oslo had ordered his personal retinue away like pesky dogs, left out in the rain while the owners discussed matters over whiskey and canapés. Will and his men had eaten some dry rations and chosen designated corners of the stable mezzanine, above where their steeds slept happily. Fidel was snoring before his head had hit the rolled up tunic he was using as a pillow. Obnoxiously loud in his little corner, he was completely unaware of the coming and going of the squire boy who had been relaying the messages between the Prince and his Captain. Gasbrought had complained the first few times, but had eventually moved his own mat to the far corner of the loft and had not made a peep since. Will’s own sleeping mat had been pushed right up against the edge of the mezzanine, conspicuously near the stairs, so as to catch the squire as soon as he stepped foot in the stable, which hadn’t been for quite some time since Will had last sent him out. 

Will still held the last missive from the prince clutched in his right hand, settled somewhere near his heart. The stables were quiet, bar the huff of the occasional horse, and the squire was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps his last letter had been too forward. Or, maybe, Lo was waiting at that very moment for Will to knock on his door. Gods and malevolent Dukes be damned.

Shoving the letters in the pocket of his trousers, Will pondered his armour for a moment before deciding against it. Not much of a show of faith for the captain of the Naeve to be waltzing around in full plate. He still slipped his sword belt on, the familiar weight of the blade bringing a modicum of calm to his otherwise occupied mind. Shoving cold-numbed feet into his boots, he repositioned the dagger he kept there. One was never too prepared. Though the situation probably didn’t warrant this kind of precaution, Will had been on edge ever since they had left the Isles. He’d felt watched from the shadows, setting up a nightly watch rotation despite their position so far inland. There was something he couldn’t put a finger on, an inescapable feeling of unease. 

Steeling himself, Will slipped down the ladder to the loft with all the ease and subtlety of one who was used to sneaking into royal quarters after hours. The wood creaked beneath his weight, protesting it’s misuse at the hands of someone weighing more than the teenage stable hand. He landed with a soft thud on the stable floor and waited for a tense second to hear his men’s confused shouts at his sudden disappearance. Fidel snored on, so he assumed his escape a success.

Until, a thunk rang from the stall at the end of the row.

The captain was already on high alert, but his senses kicked into overdrive, heart barely skipping a beat as it pumped out a rapid tattoo against the inside of his rib cage. Will spun on his heel, the leather of his soles virtually silent on the hard packed earth, his hand curled loosely around the pommel of his sword. He forced his body into a hard-earned looseness, ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice. Keen eyes scanned the darkness, flitting over the still forms of the sleeping horses. A soft neigh made itself heard, and Will’s posture immediately relaxed. His sword hand fell to his side, and he walked up to the stall in question, breathing deeply to try and calm his racing heart. Inside the box, a beautiful black mare stood to attention, wide copper eyes curiously watching him approach.

‘Malory! Gods you scared me.’ Will whispered to the animal as he held out a hand for her to smell. She immediately rested her snout against his palm and he obliged her with a few pets. She stepped right up to the box door and pressed her snout into his chest, pushing him back a few feet. ‘What are you-?’ But she was insistent, trying to reach his trouser pockets. That dragged a soft chuckle from Will. ‘I don’t have any sugar cubes. Lo spoils you rotten.’ She neighed softly in answer, and Will rubbed the tiny fleck of white hair right between her eyes. ‘Rest beautiful, we rode hard today.’

Stepping away from her box, he turned to the next one. His own horse, a large proud stallion the color of toffee, had been observing the scene with a critical eye, always cautious about the overzealous mare who tended to veer off course just to trot next to him. He stood tall, but ducked his head to accept Will’s hand on his snout. The captain scratched the stallion behind his perked ears and whispered low, ‘keep an eye on the boys while I’m gone.’ The horse pushed Will’s hand way, as if urging him to go, to trust him to look over his men. Will took the cue, and with one last look to the loft, he quietly padded outside of the stables and into the faint drizzle.

The air was moist and hot, the humidity quickly making the thin chemise he’d donned to seem appropriate, stick to the wide plane of his shoulders and back. Will kept a steady hand on his sword to keep the buckles from clinking. He didn’t want to draw attention to himself, not with the discontent the Duke’s men had shown them still nagging at the back of his mind. Best to face them on his own terms.

The stable was tucked into the far corner of the house’s expansive gardens. A traveled path of packed dirt ran along the side of the property to the house, while other winding paths took detours through the flower beds to the back doors and veranda. Even from this distance, Will could make out the two men standing by the end of the road leading up the side of the house. Illuminated by the soft glow of candle light pooling out from tall dining room windows, they looked to be growing out of the shadows decking the lane, vaguely humanoid and decked in darkness. He considered stealing into the night and creeping around the other side but dismissed the thought. If he was caught, the Duke would immediately assume something ridiculous like an assassination attempt, and they would lose what little ground they had gained in coming here. He could only imagine the prince groveling over some elaborate dinner, feeding the vile man rehearsed apologies, and the thought made his jaw tick.

Will trudged down the dirt path, keeping to the trees lining the right hand side. Once he was near enough to distinguish the buttons from the lapels on the two men’s uniforms, he jangled his sword overtly and stepped into the pool of light, one hand raised in greeting, the other white knuckled around his pommel. Both men, who’d been leisurely discussing the kitchen maid’s stockings, snapped into rigid fighting stances. The one who’d been leaning against the house’s vine covered walls went as far as to unsheathe his sword. Had he been holding it but a foot higher, Will would have had no issues with disarming him and claiming self defense. There was only so much courtesy he was willing to give someone pointing a blade at him. Still, too lenient a man was he, because he begrudgingly uncurled his hand from the handle of his own sword, and lifted it as well, in a show of good faith. Had the light been better, both men would have seen the glint of steel in Will’s amber gaze, and neither would have been reassured by the action. Some people did not need swords to bring a man to their knees.

‘I’m just passing through,’ you, if necessary, Will added to himself. The second guard, the one who hadn’t pulled out his own weapon like a green soldier showing off, struck out a hand to his compatriot, motioning him to lower his sword. Will let his hands drop, his stance loose, faux relaxed, taking a page out of Lo’s book on manipulation for dummies: look like you belong.

‘No one in or out until dawn.’ Spat the overeager one. He had eyes like a weasel, black and beady. Russet whiskers framed a surprisingly feminine mouth which strained not to rest in a perpetual pout.

‘Orders.’ Added the second. He was taller, broader, like a hulking door frame with about as many neurons. He took a decisive step forward Will decidedly did not like, but instead of letting the sudden need to take them both down a peg overwhelm him, he fished out Lo’s last letter from his pocket and held it up like a white flag. _Though, if you are truly and utterly preoccupied for my well being, you could always pay your Demon Prince a visit._

‘Orders.’ Will shot back with a winning smile, trying to establish some kind of mutual understanding. Quard to guard, pricks for bosses and all that, collective distaste for higher power was the glue that held the proletariat together. The seemingly reasonable, if daft, guard sniffed and seemed swayed, until the angry imp stepped up and let his jaw loose.

‘This ain’t some prissy palace where everyone turns a blind eye to the Prince sucking off his Captain. Pick a bush and fantasize about the demon on your own time. Don’t drag us into it.’ The guard spat and it took herculean self control for Will to resist the urge to snap his neck right there and then. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, sounding strangely like Lo, was a voice repeating the word ‘diplomacy’ over and over again like some witch’s chant made to ensnare his sense of self worth. He breathed through his nose and forced his hand to relax around the sword he hadn’t realized he’d instinctively reached for.

‘Look.’ He managed through his clenched teeth. He tried and failed to keep the sneer off his face. ‘I have to see the Prince on official business.’

‘At midnight?’ Scoffed the weasel-y one. The taller one stood brooding over his one-word addition to the exchange, otherwise uninterested with the events taking place. He was there for brute force intervention, not quips. Will rolled back his shoulders and tried channeling some of Lo’s natural ability to piss people off enough for them to do as told.

‘War doesn’t sleep.’

‘Neither do fairies apparently.’

And there was the line. Will snapped, and in the span of a moment, had the loose-tongued guard’s lapels in his fist, his face inches from a scowl that would cow a smarter man. There was a gasp from his victim and the sound of sharpened steel on hardened leather to his left, and the flat of a blade was carefully laid across Will’s shoulder, and inch from his neck, a clear warning. Breathe, he reminded himself painfully, breathe. For a few tense seconds, no one moved. A servant’s shadow crossed the dinning room windows, snuffing out the candles, and darkness blanketed the scene. Will slowly exhaled, and with it, unclenched his fingers from the white-knuckled grip he had on the guard’s uniform. No use getting himself killed, here of all places, with a coward’s face inches from his, in the dirt of a bastard’s courtyard. Will didn’t look at the man’s expression. Seeing his self assured smirk would have sapped what little self restraint Will still possessed. Instead, the captain gave him a hard shove that sent the guard stumbling back a few steps, brushing off his shirt like Will had stained it where he had deigned touch him. Will shrugged the sword off his shoulder and stepped away from the pair. Lo would have managed to talk his way through, he knew. He itched to use just a bit of force, just one hit or two, but Lo’s voice in the back of his head – which had suspiciously started to sound like his conscience - urgently dissuaded him from it. Diplomacy, it said, with the soft C from his tongue catching on his fang.

‘Dawn.’ He swore, throwing down the word like a gauntlet. The larger guard nodded solemnly. The shorter one puffed up his chest and managed to go blue in the face in the process.

‘Dawn.’ Will whispered to himself.

Will did not wait until dawn. Instead, Will walked back towards the stable until the guards were satisfied he was complying, and as soon as they turned their back, he vaulted the nearest hedge and quickly ducked into the gardens. He crouched in the small shadow of the bush and held his breath for a few tense minutes, but no one came looking for the fairy hiding by the fountain. He was grateful he’d forgone his armor. Traipsing around the grounds would have been less stealthy had he been lugging around a slab of steel. In nothing but his shirt and trousers, he had the breadth of movement to crouch below the hedges that lined the gardens, and summersault across the pathways between the flower beds. Will got the sudden urge to laugh. Here he was, risking a national scandal, just so he could see his unrequited-requited love for an instant. He wasn’t thinking clearly, evidently. Then again, he hadn’t been thinking clearly since the moment Lo had rested the ceremonial sword on his shoulder and asked for his fealty. The swirls of gold in his irises had shone with equal parts seriousness and amusement and Will had been so enraptured he’d barely managed to stutter out a positive answer. Gone, so far gone was he.

The house was mostly dark when Will made it to the stairs leading up to the back veranda. A short glance to his right confirmed that the guards had returned to their slouching positions against the wall and trees. Their voices floated over in the silence of night, almost overloud in their discussion about the pros and cons of garters over pantyhose. Garters, Will thought, garters any day of the week.

Occupied as they were, Will waltzed up to the back doors, completely unnoticed. The veranda was blessedly sturdy and silent. He would have whistled had he been gifted with the ability. A quick tug on the doorknob confirmed it was locked, so he fished his dagger from his boots and wedged it between the doorjamb and the frame, giving it a perfunctory wiggle. No one would notice a broken lock in the morning, probably. Had he been also gifted with forethought, or at least the ability to think clearly through the haze of lust Lo’s last letter had left him in, he’d have picked a more subtle alternative. As it was, his one track mind found it perfectly acceptable to commit property damage in the name of love. Will looked over his shoulder, and as quietly as possible, snapped the lock from the wood.

It gave out with a crack like cannon fire in the night.

‘Fuck.’ Breathed Will.

‘What was that?’ Echoed out the newly alerted guards.

‘Shit.’ He muttered.

‘It came from behind the house!’

‘Crap.’

Will had seconds at most before the two guards stumbled onto him standing there with a knife in one hand and the broken lock like a red flag on the door swinging out behind him. His common sense had vacated the area between his ears the second he decided to get out of bed and sneak into Lo’s rooms, so he didn’t have much left to work with. Pure instinct had yet to fail him before, so let his mind slip from the saddle and fell back onto muscle memory alone: he propped the door closed and vaulted the veranda railing. He dove right into the rose bushes below.

Not his best idea by far, but also, not his worse?

The thorns dug into every exposed inch of skin and Will swore up and down the empty space in his mind where his common sense had once resided. His less than dignified escape was covered by the thundering of footsteps as the guards ran to where he’d stood a few seconds ago. He held his breath trapped in his chest somewhere between his ribs and his current decision making organ. For a few tense seconds, only the loud breathing of the two men standing somewhere above Will cut through the silence of night. Will could practically hear the rusty gears in the men’s head grind into action.

‘Think it was that guard from earlier?’ Came the snide call from the imp, a few feet above Will’s head which was thankfully obscured by the verdant bushes. He made a mental note to commend the gardeners if he remained a free man until morning. The two guards circled the veranda, Will carefully counting the shallow footfalls on the creaking wood to keep his mind from the stabbing pain of a thousand little thorns digging into his side.

‘You think he’s thirsty enough to risk it?’ Asked the other, rewarded with a chuckle. Will rolled his eyes. They had no idea. 

‘Even if he is, he’s too late.’ Muttered the smaller guard, his lighter steps that dragged along the wood getting further from Will’s hiding spot. Will wondered idly what that meant. The second guard grunted his approval, and both circled the veranda again. The oaf went as far as to peak over the railing and into the rose bushes, but the dark shrouded Will’s face amongst the flowers, and the guards moved on. Will tried to keep his lungs from collapsing.

‘We should do a perimeter check.’ Suggested the big guy. The imp immediately offered a rebuttal.

‘What? Why?’

‘Like that, if he does get in, and they ask where we were, we can say we were doing a perimeter check.’

‘Oh.’ Said the slower, taking a second to process the information. Will counted the seconds it took the idiot to come to a satisfactory conclusion. ‘Smart.’ 7 seconds. ‘Let’s go.’ He breathed a quiet sigh of relief and sent up thanks to which ever god was looking over him then. The footsteps receded to the edge of the veranda, then smacked against cobblestone as the guards took the small lined trail around the house. Will poked his head through the rose bush but the two men had already disappeared from view. Now, if they had only been able to come to such an amicable conclusion earlier, Will wouldn’t have had to carefully peel away the thorns imbedded in his forearm. He cursed through clenched teeth as blood dotted on his palm where he had used his hands to soften his landing. Definitely not his brightest idea.

Once free from the bramble, Will hesitated, then broke an uncrushed rose off from the bush. He had suffered for it, it was the least the plant owed him. He looked down at himself, but his only pockets were in his slacks, one of which had been punctured in his stunt. With little alternative, he picked a thorn-free section, and placed it in his mouth, his hands otherwise occupied with climbing back over the veranda. One leg over, and Will swung silently back onto the wooden slats he’d vacated earlier, this time with the keen knowledge that his next escape would not be over the railing. A quick scope of his surroundings taught him he was finally completely alone, nothing more than another shadow in the dead of night. He slinked over to the backdoor, intent on slipping in unnoticed when, the very second his hand closed around the door knob, the wobbling light of a candle illuminated the far end of the hallway.

Will instinctively flattened himself against the outside wall of the manor and breathed too shallow to be heard. With his ear so close to the door, he could almost make out the faint footsteps of leather boots, and the jangling of buckles, not unlike the sound his sword made when left to float at his hip. Will frowned, inching closer to the door jam, trying to catch the wisps of a conversation that floated through. There were at least two people, neither of which were the guards from earlier, that much he could tell.

‘… quietly as possible,’ spoke a voice Will was struggling to recognize, it had a familiar twang he couldn’t place. The rustle of furs made the piece click and Will was stunned to hear the Duke awake at such an hour of the night, moreover, speaking to what sounded like a servant. ‘In the morning, wait for ... then call…’ Will leaned in further to catch the end of the sentence, but the footsteps eased and when he dared a look through the crack in the door, he could glimpse at the fading light as the two figures continued down the next hallway.

Will pondered stealing into the house and praying to the Gods he didn’t run into the Duke, but the Prince as his voice of conscious practically had a row at the thought of risking it. The political stability of the nation had to come before his physical needs, or something like that. Honor, or whatever. Will was all for that usually, but the words from Lo’s last letters had stirred a madness loose inside him, a need simmering just below his skin. Lo was the kind of person to make a man go insane with need, and Will was not impervious to the effect. Instead of causing a political coup, however, Will took a step back and mapped out the back wall of the manor with a calculating gaze.

The cornices were spaced out regularly, and the second floor balcony was just a breath of a jump from the garish gargoyles lining the edge of the veranda roof. He spied the double doors leading to the guest room he knew Lo to occupy, still lit from the inside with soft lamp light. Will had watched, transfixed, Lo’s shadow (characteristic horns and all) sweep across the gauzy curtains drawn across the glass from the stables doors throughout most of the night. He’d only retreated into the wooden building once the rain had started, regretfully. The balcony was maybe ten, fifteen feet up, an easy climb. This, while not as dumb as jumping headfirst into a bush of roses, was definitely not his best idea either, but Will was not a quitting man. In fact, worse were the odds, the better things usually turned out for him.

So, the rose stuck between his teeth, Will rolled back the sleeves of his shirt, and made sure his sword was secure. Then, he jumped onto the railing and grabbed the ledge of the roof, pulling himself up until his chin was past the edge to reach up and grab the next handhold. The first few feet were rather strenuous, but once he’d managed to swing himself onto the veranda roof, the rest was a child’s game. Outcropping of stones doted the wall, a style remnant from a bygone era of architecture, and made for useful foot holds as he scaled the side of the building. The dark was difficult to scour at times, but as he neared the balcony, the warm light illuminated the way, as if inviting him in. He wasn’t even surprised the lights were still on at this hour. Knowing Lo, the prince would be pouring over documents until the early morning when he would finally deign get a few hours rest and somehow not die from the exhaustion. It was witchcraft, in Will’s honest opinion. It had to be. Lo, meanwhile, would simply make a passing mention to his demonic heritage whenever Will complained about the hour at which he was being summoned. Nocturnal, might have been the word. Bloody masochist might have been another.

The gargoyle proved to be tricky to secure around, but Will managed to wedge his foot into the thing’s mouth, between its overlarge fangs. The balcony was a short leap across, and all Will had to do was put the right amount of force behind it. Too little and he’d plummet two stories to an already scorned bush of roses, but too far and he’d wind himself on the balcony railing. He needed to be precise, accurate. He set his weight back, and without a second thought – which would have been out of character at this point – launched himself across the chasm, rose flying in the wind between his teeth.

For one glorious moment, Will was airborne, weightless, arcing through the sky like some hero from an epic. He was soaring above the naysayers and doubters towards the welcoming arms of his lover, an inspiration to all. Then, the balcony came rushing up a tad too quickly and he caught the railing somewhere between his gut and his diaphragm. The subsequent groan was mostly made up of any remaining air in his atrophied lungs.

White knuckled, Will gripped the edge of the balcony until the pain ebbed enough that he could drag in a mouthful of oxygen through his teeth still clamped around the rose stem. Sweet nectar of life, he would never take it for granted again. Once he’d grieved the masterful execution of his plan, and a bruise had started to bloom across his abdomen, Will found the strength to throw a leg over the railing and practically topple onto secure footing. He stopped a beat, crouched on the balcony, to suck in a few more lungfuls of air without the rose obstructing his mouth. His thoughts cleared a bit and Will had the self-awareness to chuckle at his own misfortune. Or rather, his pigheadedness that tended to leave him bruised and battered. Still, as he picked himself up and took a second to right his clothes and rake his ringers through his mess of curls, he couldn’t help the grin splitting his face. The anticipation of seeing Lo usually had that effect.

The lamp light which illuminated the room beyond the glass doors and gauzy curtains poured out almost blindingly in the relative darkness. Though he could have caught the outline of the Prince from the stables, from so close the light and curtain obscured any semblance of movement beyond the doors. Will was momentarily caught off guard. Was he supposed to knock? He knew that if he barged right in Lo would most likely tear him to pieces for scaring him. Though, it might be good practice for the assassination scenarios Will had made sure to brief him on. Ever since his return from the Front, with the death and carnage still fresh in his mind, they’d been going over escape routes and small bouts of self defense training at Will’s insistence. Usually, Will would play the role of the assailant and Lo would be left to defend himself; usually late at night, after they’d done some strategizing; usually in Lo’s rooms with the doors carefully locked to avoid interruption. One such night had yielded interesting results which had clued Will into the prince’s particular set of abilities. Will should have guessed, really, Lo being the heir to a Mage Queen of all things, but the small bouts of magic and his ability to see clearly in the dark had caught him by surprise. He’d introduced blind fighting into the usual Naeve training after that. Such a skill set could make things interesting in the right conditions. 

Will steeled his resolve. He wasn’t about to turn back now, not when he was so close. Catching Lo unaware might just be a blessing in disguise. Perhaps he was just coming from a bath, steam rising from his skin, cheeks rosy from the heat, water falling in small rivulets down the column of his back. Or maybe, he had fallen asleep at his desk, arms cushioning his head as he dozed, his expression finally calm and relaxed for the first time in days. Or, he was lying on the bed, shirt undone and barely hanging onto his lithe frame, barefoot, casually playing with the bangles adorning his horns as he read through missives and political documents in the candle light. Will shook the thoughts clear from his head, a warmth already forming in his navel that had no right to be there when he was cold and wet and sore from scaling the side of a building just to catch a glimpse of the man.

He raised a fist and knocked lighting on the door before he psyched himself out, shuffling his stance to rid himself of a sudden wave of nervousness. He’d never been nervous about seeing Lo before. Anxious in anticipation, furious at some ridiculous plot of his, somewhat turned on at times. But nervous? That was new. His knock rang out, more sure than he felt, and a silence fell. Will’s ears perked up. He hadn’t noticed, but now that it was gone, it was clear as day. There had been shuffling behind the door, faint footsteps, a breath, or maybe a gasp. And now it was gone.

‘Lo?’ He called out softly, weary of the return of the guards from their perimeter check. Will was all too aware of how exposed he was, bathed in lamp light, standing outside the balcony doors of a second floor room. Anyone in the gardens would see him clear as day. He knocked again, leaning closer to the door, catching what sounded like a sharp intake of breath. ‘It’s Will,’ He felt the need to add, just in case Lo was about to brandish a dagger on him. He had a nice one that never left his side anymore, the hilt worn into the form of his grip, well made, with nothing more than a small nick of imperfection on the edge. It was Will’s old one, he’d gotten the nick during one of the squirmishes at the Front. He’d insisted Lo take it, for protection. In case of strange men barging into his rooms from balconies in the middle of the night.

‘Lo, I just… Can I come in?’ Will cringed at his own hesitation. He was the goddamn Captain of the Naeve, he could very well go anywhere he pleased (within the confines of the law, and this technically was breaking and entering, but nonetheless). Still, he didn’t have to sound like he did the first time he’d ever approached a pretty girl who’d piqued his interest. Damn Palma Jord and her wicked grin and lofty personality. Will had a type, he realized then. He had a type, and Lo was the epitome of everything Will had ever found attractive in the whole of the universe, somehow condensed into one irresistible man who took great pleasure in making Will shiver at the mere thought of one sultry look through his long black lashes. And Lo loved him. Any and all embarrassment left his system then. Will was all-in. Will was two-feet-jump-into-the-abyss-in. Will was climb-the-side-of-a-building-with-a-rose in. He thumbed the petal of the flower and wondered if the prince’s cheek would feel as soft against his sword-won callouses. 

‘Lo, I… I need to see you.’ Will said in a breath, his chest tight and warm and he leaned his forehead against the door and spoke just loud enough to be heard. ‘You drive me crazy. And your last letter… God. You just enjoy torturing me don’t you.’ There was a strange kind of sound, and a shuffle, and Will could just picture the prince, standing right on the other side, trying to decide if he should give into the inevitable. No matter how forward his letters were, Will knew he was still plagued with fear of the court. Will only wished he could see the power he commanded, the loyalty he deserved, the change he could bring, if he just let go. If he just gave in. ‘I tried to get through the door, I swear, but I thought climbing your balcony would be more romantic. My father would be proud.’ A chuckle left his lips and he heard muffled steps hesitantly getting louder, closer to the door. ‘I… I think I need to tell you, face to face. I need you to know, not just in writing.’ The steps halted just on the other side of the door, Will could see the shadows beneath the curtains, not two feet from his own. ‘Lo, I love you.’

The words hung in the still air for one terribly long moment. Will realized he’d forgotten to breathe and reminded himself that this was Lo. No matter what happened now, he would always be his prince. The curtains stirred. Will looked up, the outline of someone standing against the lamp light almost discernable. He took a step back, waiting for Lo to open the door, but the curtains only rippled stronger, like caught in wind within the room. The door suddenly smacked against their hinges, as if the pressure had grown tenfold within the chamber. The wind kicked up, the curtains flailing.

‘Lo?’ He called, a bit louder. The curtains lifted up enough for Will to spot the boot-clad feet on whoever was standing just beyond the door. Leather, utilitarian, covered in mud. Will reached for his sword and the door at the same time, the rose forgotten somewhere in the midst. Lo had been wearing a daring pair of knee-high boots when they’d parted. Will had watched him strut away with as much dignity as a man in the throes of lust could muster. Lo’s boots had been spotless.

Will’s hand turned the handle just enough for bolt to give, and the doors blasted open as a gale-force wind slammed into him. Will was blown a step back, the railing of the balcony pressing into his kidneys as he fought the wind to unsheathe his blade, one hand on the pommel, the other shielding his face from the blinding light that poured out of the room.

‘Lo!’ He yelled over the torrent and the wind died down as quickly as it had risen, the light dimming to a manageable sight. Will dropped his hand, suddenly fervently wishing he hadn’t just poured his heart out on a balcony. The warmth that had been coiling at his navel turned to ice.

The doors were blown wide open, slammed into the wall on either side. The curtains had practically been ripped from the rod, still swinging from the power of the blast. Inside the room, illuminated by the dying light of candles that had suddenly roared to unnatural heights, were four mercenaries clad in black, standing as if caught red handed in the midst of a heist gone wrong. Which, considering the gagged and tied up Prince struggling in the grip of two of the men, didn’t seem far from the truth. Lo’s eyes were wide with fear and fury, his usual golden pupil turned pitch black, his dark blue hair billowing wildly around his head as he commanded the elements to his bidding. Even in the grips of his enemies, he looked breathtaking. Powerful and regal, his shirt ripped at the shoulder, revealing a strip of blue skin, barefoot on a floor littered with broken glass, a drop of blood trickling from the edge of his mouth, he’d never been more beautiful. Will, sadly, did not have time to appreciate the spectacle. The mercenary who had been waiting just beyond the door flung himself at him, a short sword in hand.

Will ducked low, his sword still sheathed as he hadn’t been able to wrench it free in the miniature storm Lo had conjured. The swing flew over his head, and in the moment of shock before the assailant could strike again, Will lunged forward, his shoulder slamming into the man’s gut. A sharp cry of outrage left his mouth, but was short lived as Will lifted him bodily off the ground, and flung him backwards over the balcony railing in one swift movement. There was a yell followed by the mat sound of a body hitting the ground two floors below, but Will’s gaze was already affixed on his next target, his mind already dissecting his next opponent.

The mercenary was shorter, thinner than the other, a woman probably though their faces were covered in dark scarves leaving nothing but eyes to recognize them by. Their whole bodies were swathed in black, down to their fingertips, and no sigil was emblazoned anywhere. They were ghosts, unmarked, unnamed. And Will was going to kill every single one of them for daring to touch a hair on Lo’s head.

She darted toward him with astounding speed, elven light on her feet, wicked looking daggers in each hand. She leaped and swung down hard with both, using her body’s momentum to add force to her attack. Will barely had time to jerk his sword out in front of him, the foot of steel he’d manage to pull from its scabbard catching both blades. The sheer strength of the blow sent him to his knee and he could hear Lo yelling, muffled by the gag, somewhere at the edge of his awareness. Will and the mercenary struggled for a moment. She had the upper hand, the upper ground what with him on his knee, but Will was brute strength, even pinned down. He let his arms give a little bit, causing the woman’s balance to tip forwards, then launched her back with a swift swing, finally pulling his sword free from its leather confines. Deftly, he palmed his new dagger from his boot with his off hand, and launched into a flurry of attacks while the mercenary was still recovering.

She was quick, he’d give her that. His throw had given him milliseconds as she landed and readjusted her footing, ready by the time he swung down with his first blow. She played it off the edge of one dagger, striking out with the second, but Will parried with his own. They pushed apart, then came together again in a maelstrom of blades and blows. The mercenary tricked Will with feints into close quarters where his longsword became ornamental at best, and all he had was a dagger in his left hand to fend off her jabs. He’d be forced back, away from Lo who was still struggling like mad in the grips of the other two assailants, away from the men Will would take pleasure in tearing limb from limb. Will knew he needed to keep his distance to keep his advantage. A sharp arc, and she was forced back a few steps, outside of range for her daggers, but well within striking distance of his sword. She darted right, outside of his shoulder, then came swiftly in, sidestepping his sword arm as he brought up the dagger to counter her first attack. Her second hand came up, too quick and too close for Will to parry. Instead, he slammed down his elbow onto her forearm, then back up in quick succession, catching her under the chin. She gave a snarl as the dagger clattered out of her hand, retreating back a few steps to bring a hand to her lips where her teeth had caught beneath her scarf. She pulled down the balaclava and spat a mouthful of blood on the ground, whipping her face with the back of her gloved hands. She had a scar, running from the top of her cheekbone, across both lips, down to her chin. A nasty, jagged line that gave her a perpetual scowl that matched the narrow falcon eyes. She looked fearsome, and Will almost smiled at the prospect of a worthy opponent. Had the circumstances been different, had Lo not been in the crossfire, he’d almost let himself enjoy it. But Lo was in danger, and until he was safe, Will was a one-man army that would stop at nothing.

He swung out, and she dropped suddenly into a roll, pulling a second dagger from the folds of her uniform. She leaped forwards, going for a hit below his sword arm, but his dagger was there to catch it. He tried to circle the woman, to get closer to Lo, but she wasn’t letting any ground slip. She darted again, quick as a whip. Steel clashed, meeting every hit, parrying every blow. Will gained an inch, only to have to back down to avoid being stabbed. It was a careful dance, one which was drawing out much too long, giving too much time for the other two mercenaries to plan for these new events unfolding.

Sure enough, as the mercenary pushed him back again a step, the renewed struggle of the prince made Will’s eye flicker to him. The mercenaries were manhandling him out the door, intent on taking him through the house to god knows where. A stinging line at his shoulder reminded him to pay attention to the fighter he was facing, but his mind was with Lo. He pushed back the woman with a sharp swipe of his sword, giving himself room to maneuver. Lo yelled through the gag, something that sounded like a muffled version of Will’s name, battling his assailants like a madman. The mercenary jumped on him, daggers gleaming, and Will pushed her back again a step with wide arcs of his sword. Lo managed get a good kick in on one of the men holding him, right to the knee like Will had taught him to target. The man stumbled, Lo got one arm free, started pulling away from the second, but the man he’d hit came back with a fury, slamming his fist down on the side of Lo’s face. There was the sickening sound of flesh hitting bone, and Lo’s head snapped to the side as his knees buckled, held up only by the men dragging him away. The dull roar of blood in Will’s ears slowly started to overcome all his sense, a veil of unmatched rage fitting over his eyes. The mercenary keeping him busy hesitated in her next attack, eyeing his face warily. Will needed to end this, now, risks be damned. 

On her next quick flurry, Will feinted a misstep to the left, drawing her in. She was too good a fighter to let the opening go to waste, and Will bit back a swear as her dagger skimmed his side, tearing through his shirt like a knife through butter, and his skin with the bite of sharpened steel. Still, it was enough to keep her hands busy, one past his side, the other one already up to stop his incoming swing with his sword. So Will dropped his sword, mid swing, just dropped the hilt mid-air. Before it had time to clatter to the ground, he grabbed her wrist, wrapping a bruising grip around her arm. The action caught her completely by surprised and it gave Will all the time he needed to wrench her forward, directly onto his waiting dagger. She jerked away as soon as the pain started to register, but Will only tugged her further, thrusting the knife deeper, right below her rib cage. Her frame shook, her eyes going wide as she looked down at the blood pouring out around the hilt of Will’s dagger, then flickering up to his face which still bore an unyielding expression. He watched her eyes glaze over, heard her last dagger drop from her hands to the hardwood floor with a clang, felt her knees give as she went limp in his grip. He left her fall, his knife still in his iron grip slipping out of her body with a squelch Will couldn’t be bothered to find disgusting. His eyes were already on the two figures dragging a barely conscious Lo out the door.

Something between a war cry and an animalistic roar tore through Will’s chest as he took two powerful step and launched himself at the closest of the remaining two mercenaries. He landed knife first, the dagger digging to the hilt in the man’s back with the sheer strength of the hit. A strangled cry choked past the mercenaries’ lips as he dropped his grip on the Prince, palming blindly at his back from which Will’s knife stuck out. Will grabbed two handfuls of the man’s black shirt and threw him straight across the room. His body hit the ground hard enough for the floor to tremble with the after shock, his head bouncing off the floor once, twice. Will didn’t care, his focus was on the next mercenary, the next threat. His entire being was a single-minded machine of destruction, and the man now holding a knife to a half-conscious Lo’s neck was the sole focus of his rage. The man would know the pain of a thousand deaths for his actions, and Will would inflict every damn hit.

‘Don’t move!’ Yelled the mercenary as Will took a first menacing step towards them. He pressed the knife closer to Lo’s carotid, jerking the Prince’s head back by the grip he had on the man’s hair. Will would make him suffer, break every single finger he had dared lay on Lo. ‘Move, and he’ll bleed to death.’ To prove his point, the man dug the tip of the blade into Lo’s skin, making a drop of scarlet blood pearl against the steel glint of the knife. Will’s entire body was strung tighter than bow, coiled in wait, practically shaking from the effort it took not to tear the man limb from limb, for Lo’s sake. For Lo’s sake.

‘Who are you?’ Will asked, his words coming out gruff and hard, sharper in intent than the edge of a sword, more poisonous than an arrow dipped in venom. The mercenary, the youngest of the four from what Will could see, from his scrawny frame, from the shaking of his hands as he gripped the hilt of the dagger with unpracticed hands, practically flinched at the words, as though physically harmed by them. Will wished more than anything at that moment to have the power to make him hurt from his spite alone. The boy’s eyes flickered to his dead colleague, lying in a pool of her own blood, to the still figure of the broad-shouldered one Will had stabbed in the back, inert by the balcony doors. They landed back on Will, his hulking size, chest heaving from barely restrained fury, shirt dripping with blood, his own and those of his enemies, both hands curled tight into fists.

‘W-We were hired.’ He stuttered and Will took another step, only for the boy to jerk back, knuckles white on the hilt of the knife trembling under Lo’s chin.

‘By who?’ Will gritted out through clenched teeth. He could barely tear his eyes from the blade to the boy’s fearful eyes, startlingly blue above the line of his scarf. ‘Who!’ He snapped, and the boy faltered back a step, wrenching Lo’s head with him, apparently enough to stir the prince who’s eyes fluttered. A bruise had already started to smart on his cheekbone where the other man had struck him, angry red and swelling. His long black eyelashes fanned the bruise, glazed and confused until they landed on Will. The captain’s heart seized in his chest, seeing those same golden eyes rest on his familiar form, watching Lo’s entire body do the physical equivalent of a stutter at the sight. A soft intake of breath, shoulders hiccupping, eyes drinking him in as if an oasis in the midst of the Outskirts. Will’s knees almost buckled at the sight.

‘It doesn’t matter.’ Said the kid and Will stopped himself from asking what on earth he was talking about, the sight of Lo having thrown his thoughts like dice on a tabletop. ‘I’m leaving with the Demon Prince, and you’re going to let me go.’ Will had to hand it to him, even trembling, the kid had guts. Will’s gaze flashed from the mercenary to Lo who was staring at him intently, all confusion gone from his gaze. Even in the midst of a crisis, the royal was poised, cold-blooded. Golden irises pointedly looked at his face, eyebrows drawn down in a serious expression Will was trying to place. Lo held his gaze for a moment longer, then his eyes flashed to the bed, not two feet behind Will, before returning to rest on his captain. Will frowned. What?

‘Where are you taking him?’ He asked the boy, buying time, carefully unfurling his fists, trying to relax his stance. If he had to jump into action, he’d need to be loose, prepared. He took the time to breath out slowly, trying to get his heart rate down, keep it from hammering out of his chest. Lo’s eye flickered to the bed again, trying to skewer Will with intent he couldn’t grasp. Will made to move forwards, but the boy dug the knife just deep enough to illicit a hiss from the gagged prince and Will stilled.

‘You don’t need to k-know.’ Said the kid. ‘You’re g-going to turn around, put your hands behind you head.’ He spoke it like a question, but Will knew he meant it as a threat. A weak one, but a threat nonetheless. Will couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t harm Lo. Everything pointed to a kidnapping attempt rather than an assassination, but there were some things in this world Will was willing to risk, and Lo was not one of them.

‘Okay.’ He said, and if looks could kill, Lo would have murdered him on the spot. Frustration rather than indignation shown there. Lo knew Will wouldn’t let them get far, this wasn’t a question of giving up. His eyes moved to the bed again, and his chin jerked as if to point. The blade dug a bit deeper at his action and blood dripped down the length of the knife, crested against the hilt. Will swallowed down a swear, and slowly brought his hands up to his head. Lo muttered something that might have been a curse against the gag. The boy nodded, prompting the captain to comply. Will’s mind scrambled for an alternative, for an opening, but he came up short. All he could do was slowly spin on his heel, and hope the kid tripped on the carpet on the way out.

‘Good. Now don’t move or I k-kill the prince.’ Menaced the boy. Will grit his teeth, his hands laced behind his head, and faced the bed. ‘Get up.’ He heard the boy order Lo, and footsteps slowly started to move away from Will’s still form. His mind was a whirlwind, mapping out the whole room, calculating how much time it would take him to lunge and grab the knife sticking out of the mercenary’s back. Slitting open a throat was too short, too little time. He needed to neutralize the threat from the get go, not leave him a second to react. He needed to target the head, or the neck, kill him instantly. Will needed… there, under the pillow, barely visible in the mess of sheets and blankets which had been torn from the mattress, a familiar hilt. Worn leather and a sliver of silver steel, it still had the ribbon around the grip Will had tied around Lo’s wrist so he wouldn’t drop it. Will could have laughed. Lo had been sleeping with his old dagger? That was… Well he wasn’t really sure what to make of it. At the very least, it was a stroke of pure dumb luck, the kind that could save a life in such circumstances. No wonder Lo had tried murdering him with a look, Will was too single-minded for his own good at times. He’d bet a handful of gold Lo was calling him dense earlier, when he’d muttered into his gag. Will might keep it, just to teach him a lesson in appreciation for those who show up for a midnight romance and inadvertently save them from an assassination attempt. Yeah, once this was all over, Will was definitely going to give Lo a lesson in appreciation. 

Will inhaled slowly, closed his eyes, and listened for the boy’s footsteps. Hesitation meant death, and Will wasn’t one to give in so easily. He breathed out, let his shoulders drop, and prayed to any god who might be looking favouringly upon him that he strike true. Then, in the span of a moment, he lunged for the dagger; his hand fit around the worn leather of the hilt perfectly, the weight familiar and balanced; his fluid movement kept his momentum going and he spun, chucking the knife in one continuous motion, an extension of his arm. The knife spun through the air, and the boy’s eyes had the time to grow wide before it dug to the hilt into his left eye socket. The mercenary dropped to the floor instantly. Dead.

Will sucked in his first real breath in the last hour, his chest feeling like it’d collapse in on itself had he waited any longer. No longer supported by the mercenary, the prince fell to his knees on the lush carped of the quarters, breathing heavily against the gag. His eyes had fluttered shut when Will had thrown the knife, his whole body slumping with relief before the captain had even hit the target. Now, as the adrenaline leeched from both their bodies, Lo tipped forwards, his hands still tied behind his back. Will was there in an instant, as he always would be, falling to his knees in front of his prince. The other man’s body folded into Will’s waiting embrace. Lo’s forehead dropped to his captain’s shoulder, shuddering breaths fanning the cut still bleeding there, wheezing through the gag.

Will closed his eyes for a moment, just until the shaking of his hands had become less noticeable, and the sweet flowery smell of Lo had overwhelmed his senses in the most soothing of ways. His hair always smelled of lavender, some kind of oil he combed into it. Will had never bothered to ask. He should probably have felt self-conscious at that point that Lo was pressed into his shirt which was damp with sweat and fear, but the prince practically burrowed into the small dip between his shoulder and neck when he tried to pull away, and Will was not one to deny a prince. Especially not Lo. He wasn’t small, rather tall and lithe, a few extra inches aided by his horns, and yet he fit so perfectly in Will’s arms the captain couldn’t help but wonder if some people were meant for one another and they’d just fit like pieces of a puzzle and know. If so, Will knew. He rested his own cheeks against the dark curling horns of the Prince, the rough texture strikingly familiar and grounding all at once. He let the moment engulf him, take hold somewhere deep in his soul and engrave itself in his memory. Later, when they’d be riding back to the Isles with the weight of the world on their shoulders and a secret in their hearts, Will would think back to this moment when everything was so terribly wrong, and yet so terribly right, and he’d smile a knowing smile that Lo would roll his eyes at.

As the sharp edges of Will’s nerves dulled and functioning became a possibility again, he carefully pried Lo away from his shoulder, pushing him back onto his knees. The prince blinked up at him, his expression strangely blank, forlorn. Will simply cupped the man’s face between his hands, carefully brushing the blossoming bruise on the prince’s face, before tugging the gag from his mouth. The rag was bloodied from a split lip and torn where Lo had sunk in his fangs. Will couldn’t help but brush the cut with his thumb.

‘Gods, what did they do to you…’ Whispered Will, mostly to himself, but a semblance of awareness returned to the prince’s eyes at the comment. As Will’s finger glossed over his bottom lip, Lo gave it a chaste kiss, making the man go stock still, marveling at the action. Lo’s gaze finally rested on his captain truly, golden eyes bright with some emotion neither would have been able to name.

‘What took you so long darling?’

Will wasn’t sure what emotion exactly was contracting his throat, but it was making speaking a difficult task so he settled on a grin, his palm caressing the other man’s cheek where it rested. Soft as a rose, noted Will. Lo’s gaze finally tore itself from Will’s face, dropping to his bleeding shoulder, the gash at his side where his shirt had caught in the drying blood.

‘You’re bleeding.’ Said the Prince.

‘I brought you a rose.’ Answered the Captain. Lo’s eyes snapped up to his, a pretty hint of pink seeping into his indigo skin, matching the bruise already gracing his cheekbone. Will was transfixed by the way Lo’s fang caught his lip and wondered how soft those might be.

‘Did you now?’ Lo played coy, cocking an eyebrow.

‘Yeah, its…’ But Will’s voice faded as he looked back at the carnage decorating the room. Bodies lay in pools of blood at random intervals, the curtains hanging ripped, floating idly in the breeze streaming in through the open doors. The night was so quiet, it was almost serene. Lo shifted, Will’s hand dropping away as the prince’s spine straightened, his shoulders falling back into a proud stance, even kneeling on the ground, his captain’s arm still around his waist. He wasn’t alone, Will had also steeled, a steely ardor hardening his stance. His crouch wasn’t desperate, but predatory. The pair shared a knowing look, duty bound even in their softest moments.

‘They came in through the door. No guards in the house were alerted by the noise. And I made sure to make a lot of noise.’ Described Lo, eyeing the broken shards of what Will could now see had been a tall glass vase. The captain’s mind flickered back to the Duke and the guard’s words.

‘The Duke’s in on this, if not behind it entirely.’ Filled in the captain. Lo nodded, unsurprised.

‘I expected as much.’ He muttered, his gaze fixed on some far point Will couldn’t see.

‘And you still sent your guard away?’ Asked his captain, cocking his own eyebrow in retaliation. Lo’s eyes lazily made their way back to the smirk toying with the corner of Will’s lips.

‘I hoped he wouldn’t try anything as foolish. It seems the fool was I.’ He answered, and got a chuckle out of the man for his trouble. Will gently placed a stray strand of Lo’s hair behind his ear, surprising the other out of the sour mindset he’d fallen into.

‘Don’t be so hard on yourself, you’re not used to being an optimist.’ Will gave the prince’s waist a reassuring squeeze and stood. He stayed low on his stance. ‘Stay down, I’ll secure the room.’

Lo was more than happy to stay exactly where he was, staring at his captain performing all kinds of duties, but his own consciousness filtered in through the haze of lust that had settled over the prince’s sense at the sight of Will in a pair of too-tight-to-be-standard-issue slacks. Some vague understanding of the danger that was still lurking in the corners of the house.

‘Can I help?’ He called out as Will quickly retrieved his daggers from their respective bodies, his sword from where he had dropped it, making his way towards the doors that were still blown wide. Will threw him a half smile over his shoulder that made the prince’s insides flutter.

‘Kill the light?’

‘Anything for you darling.’ Lo threw back, knowing the effect the pet name had. He went to raise his hands, reflexively rather than necessary, and realized his predicament. ‘Actually, would you mind untying me first?’ Will had moved to the doors, latching them closed and stopped to cross his arms over his chest and give Lo one hell of an appraising look. Had the prince had a free hand, he might have tugged down the neckline of his shirt to give the man a better view, but sometimes, that’s how the cards fell.

‘I don’t know, would I?’ The captain asked, all cocky and self-assured. Lo put on his best incredulous riposte.

‘Is this you getting back at me for sending you to the stables? My, Will, you should know that this is no punishment.’

‘I was thinking more along the lines of lesson.’ Will unfolded his arms and made his way languidly back to the prince, still kneeling where he had left him, bound and beautiful.

‘I’m listening.’ Practically purred the prince.

‘You should be learning.’ Tutted the captain. He only had a few more feet to cross before they were too close for the tension to be comfortable.

‘Learning what exactly?’ Breathed out Lo with a semblance of reserve.

‘To appreciate me.’ Enunciated the other, sure to let every syllable fall with one of his steps, to really get his point across.

‘Darling, if that’s what you wanted, you should have just asked. I can show you exactly what about you I appreciate.’ Lo answered in one breath. By then Will was standing over his kneeling form and both were keenly aware of exactly what the prince’s pretty little mouth was level with. Will counted back from ten and swallowed down the sudden urge to tie Lo to the bed and make renewed use of that gag. Maybe the mercenaries were onto something. Will crouched to get on eye level with the man who was capable of bringing him to his knees with a look alone, and raised a hand to run it over Lo’s good cheek. The stray strand had fallen in front of his eyes again, so Will tucked it back once more, his movement suddenly soft as electricity cracked in the remaining space between them.

‘Your eyes are my favourite thing, they should never be hidden.’ He whispered. They had unconsciously leaned into each other, their foreheads almost touching as they had ducked into their own little world of intimacy. The words were practically whispered into the prince’s mouth. He couldn’t have missed them if he tried. Lo’s eyes fluttered at the unexpected tenderness of Will’s admission. His tongue darted out to moisten his lips which had suddenly gone very dry, and was all too aware of the captain’s gaze tracking its movement. The hand at his cheek cupped his chin, and tipped it up, just an inch, just enough for his mouth to be at the perfect angle for Will’s to slot against his, the sharp spike in intensity renewed by his sure touch.Lo’s eyes flickered from the captain’s full lips, parted in unsaid promise of the unravelling events, to his eyes, veiled with undeniable lust, matching pools of swirling desire, framed by the dark curls that had grown too long, but were still too short to tie back. Warmth coiled in Lo’s stomach, and somewhere, in the dark recessed of his mind, he knew he shouldn’t. He knew he couldn’t give into this, no matter the gravity pulling him headfirst into the abyss, no matter the sheer want racking his body like the sweetest pain. He knew, and yet, for once in his life, he couldn’t care less.

He tipped his chin, of his own accord, just an inch more, and for once sultry second, their lips brushed and Lo was on the edge of the universe, walking backwards into oblivion, flipping off the world.

Then a thud sounded from the hallway.

Both of them froze, their bodies tensing as one, eyes shooting to the door. Lo was stock still, but Will knew better than to freeze in the face of a threat. Before Lo could process what was happening, he was flat on his back, the hulking captain flattened against him, covering the prince’s body with his own. His mouth was somewhere near Lo’s ear because he heard the captain’s whispered words like fireworks in his head.

‘The lights, love.’ Will’s breath tickling the soft skin right below his earlobe, and no amount of control would have prevented the shiver that wracked the prince’s body. He closed his eyes and reached for that spool of raw magic inside him and tugged. The wind picked up in the room immediately, a storm brewing within the walls of the quarters, and the candles blew out as one, plunging the pair into darkness as thick as velvet.

For a long aching second, the room was quiet, the silence falling over their still bodies as densely as the night. The prince and the captain held their breaths in tandem, waiting for the seconds to slip by. Lo was the first to cave, his chest somewhat trapped by Will lying right across him, and his lungful of air came out as a hiss. Will shifted onto his forearms, giving the man more room to breathe, betrayed only by the rustle of fabric. Lo would have grabbed a handful of his shirt and tugged him back down had his arms been free. Still, the view wasn’t half bad, so he wasn’t complaining. Nightvision was definitely coming in handy.

Will blew out the breath he’d been holding against the crook of Lo’s neck, and it was nothing if not downright rude. Lo tried and failed to fight off another shiver and could feel the smirk on the captain’s lips against the skin of his neck. They both remained frozen for another long beat of time before Will scanned the darkness and made to stand, stopping only at Lo’s request.

‘My hands, maybe?’ He hissed, and Will’s gaze flashed down to him, coy and playful even as the fear of another threat weaned there. Lo squirmed to rearrange his bound hands, somehow managing buck his hips against Will’s to move them out from under him. Will’s eyes went from fun to fuck in less time than it took for the prince to register what exactly he’d just inadvertently done. Lo swallowed audibly, his golden eyes peering through the dark perhaps better than Will knew, because he could read clear as day the lust painted across the other man’s usually schooled features like a promise. Then, because he was a man of his word, Will dragged himself down Lo’s body, painstakingly slowly. Lo’s head fell back against the floor with a thud at the suddenly overwhelming sensation of Will’s unmistakable erection dragging itself down his thigh, and Will, as Lo cursed him repeatedly in his mind, shushed him softly, lips barely brushing against the exposed skin of his clavicle. Goosebumps rose across every inch of flesh the tiefling owned, and felt again the corner of Will’s mouth lift against his chest. A heavy hand dropped to his waist, closing there like a warm and unyielding vice, thumb pressing into the soft curve of his hip bone. Lo bit back a gasp as Will’s breath tickled the line of dark hair trailing down his navel, and swore softly as he felt the man stop there. Will was level with Lo’s bound hands which he was half lying on. A dagger appeared from somewhere and in a deft movement, Lo’s binding fell, and something like a kiss had been left on his hip bone, an invisible signature on his skin.

Will went from caging him in, to a stealthy crouch, the dagger he’d retrieved earlier now grasped in an offensive grip. The moonlight wasn’t much to go by with the soft patter of rain outside, so Lo had the advantage. Rather, he had the privilege of privacy, which he used to gingerly rub at his raw wrists, replace his shirt, and readjust his slacks around his own noticeable arousal. Will stretched out a hand in his general direction, handing him a dagger hilt first. Lo recognized it as soon as his fingers wrapped around the familiar leather bindings of Will’s knife.

‘We have to alert our men, find the Duke, and neutralize his forces.’ Strategized the captain, already standing to move towards the door, hand carefully outstretched to find the wall in the dark.

‘Could have fooled me…’ Muttered the prince, collecting himself still, brushing off the tingling sensation left by Will’s lips on the crest of his hip bone. Will looked back in Lo’s general direction, a quirk on the corner of his lips.

‘Are you questioning my professionalism?’ He whispered back, just loud enough for the sound to carry.

‘I’m questioning your priorities.’

‘You’re my only priority, Exalted.’ A promise, rolling off lush lips in the din of night. Had the circumstances been different (which was a recurring wish, the prince noticed then) they wouldn’t be about to bring down a coup hand in hand. Lo would have found a quiet corner, left the windows open to let the rain muffle pleased moans, and everyone would look the other way because it wasn’t their damned business. Instead, he had to tolerate the rough timber of his captain’s voice reminding him of his duties. To his men. To him, as a man. Lo cleared his throat and thanked the gods for the darkness hiding the tinge of blush he could feel creeping up his neck.

‘Take down a small army you said? Sounds easy enough.’ Was the wry answer of the prince who very much needed to find his own smooth demeanor again. Flustered was not attractive decked in gold. His nightvision allowed Lo to spy the smirk the comment garnered from Will.

‘Do you know how many men he has stationed here?’ Elected to answer the other as Lo easily picked his way across the room painted shades of grey, pupils blown wide like a cat stalking delectable prey in the night.

‘About half a dozen,’ he counted back, trying to remember where he’d seen them stationed during the initial tour, ‘By the stairs to the second floor, the front door, some on perimeter,’ Will tried to fight an eye roll at the memory of the two idiots who’s dared cross him, ‘and one that follows him around like a lost puppy.’

‘I follow you around.’ Pointed out the dejected captain. Lo smiled broadly in the cover of dark.

‘It’s cute when you do it darling.’ Lo quipped and couldn’t help the grin at Will’s faux offence.

‘What about the squire boy?’ Asked the captain, having found the door in the dark without Lo’s assistance.

‘Last I saw him, he was on his way to you. He was supposed to give word to the guards to let you through.’

‘I was still waiting for your answer when I elected to climb your balcony.’ That made both pause.

‘Do you think they killed him?’ Lo threw the worse possibility out into the open, best said then be unprepared.

As if on cue, another thud echoed from the hallway, making both men tense. Lo almost looked expectantly at Will, as if waiting for the man to tackle him again, but his eyes were on the door leading back into the house.

‘Only one way to find out.’

The hallway lights flooded the room as soon as Will opened the door, bright oil lamps lining both sides. The blood marring their bodies glistened ominously, as did the pool at their feet from the nearest corpse, strangely marching the scarlet paint and gold moldings of the doorframe. Lo wouldn’t have been surprised if the Duke planned it out. He seemed facetious enough the type to have orchestrated such an affair. Why not match the kidnapping to the drapery?

‘Stay behind me.’ Said Will as though Lo needed another reason to keep an eye on the criminal way Will’s slacks framed his ass. The sight caused a knee jerk reaction somewhere south of anything remotely logical. By the gods, he’d almost just died, and he might still by the end of the night. Lo wasn’t sure exactly which side of the argument that point fell onto.

‘I’m going to make those the new uniform…’ Lo thought to himself, but the stutter in Will’s step inclined him to think he’d perhaps let the words slip. The captain rolled his shoulders back and Lo applauded the appearance of his previously lacking professionalism, even though Will had been rather consistent in his live-then-love mentality.

The hallway was empty, but they kept to the wall, carefully creeping down the length towards the stairs, each gripping a dagger, a third stolen off the female mercenary and hidden in Will’s boot. Apart from the previous thuds, the whole floor seemed abandoned, all the doors giving into dark guest rooms. There seemed to be more than enough room to house Will and his men, and it only fueled the fire of distaste the captain harboured for the Duke. A single door on the other end of the floor was propped closed with a chair.

‘Want to chance a guess at where we might find out squire?’ Humored Will.

‘Well, subtly was never the Duke’s strong suit…’ Replied Lo distractedly.

‘Is his room on this floor?’ Will threw a glance over his shoulder, only to find the crown prince undressing him with his golden irises. ‘It’s not yours either it seems.’ He pointed out, and Lo’s lavishing gaze flickered up to Will’s almost pained expression.

‘You’ll have to excuse the sudden revelation a near death experience has caused me.’ Lo stated in his best politician’s voice. Will actually froze, having seen something deep in Lo’s gaze that must have been more impending than their probable deaths at the hands of the Duke’s men. He straightened from his battle stance, towering over the lithe prince in both might and height.

‘Oh?’ Was all he said. Lo swallowed and rolled his shoulders back, reminding himself he was a suave, flirtatious, indomitable, force of nature. And that this was Will, the one man who could bring him to his knees with a look alone.

‘Yeah.’ He breathed, and cursed not having prepared something more substantial, worthy of his title, for this man to whom his title meant nothing. Lo’s gaze fell to the floor, to the fraying edges of the streaked carpet lush enough to imitate luxury, then flickered back up to Will’s face. In the span of that moment, something had finally dislodged in the man’s expression, something Lo had barely noticed was there at all until it was gone. Restraint.

The muted clatter of a dropped blade, strong hands, on his thigh, in his hair, the sudden undeniable presence of the wall against his back, and the sudden unyielding presence of Will between his legs - between because somewhere in the midst of all of this, Lo’s leg had somehow ended up hooked around the captain’s hip, secured there by the man’s grip under his knee - and pressing impossibly close, were all things Lo’s brain struggled to register because, Will was kissing him. His lips were softer than he’d anticipated, was the only thing Lo could think clearly. At some point during the months and years, he’d assumed the other man was rugged everywhere, scarred and calloused, in every aspect. Lo had not anticipated his lips to have been spared the trials of time. Lo wasn’t sure what to make of this information. What wasn’t surprising, was the force with which Will wielded that softness. Will was a hurricane, torrential, uncontrollable, ferocious, encapsulated in a sand-softened bottle, and Lo pressed his lips against every crack in the glass. To bandage or break, he wasn’t sure. His own restraint had been slammed out of his skull sometime around when Will had fisted a hand into his dark curls and tipped his head back to slot his mouth, hot and heavy, against his. He met his captain, kiss for kiss.

Lo’s lips parted on instinct, devilish as it might have been, and Will groaned into his mouth as his tongue explored the new territory like a beast unleashed upon the wilds. His grip tightened on Lo’s leg instinctively as the prince elicited another moan with a swift nip to Will’s bottom lip. The prince raised his leg higher, allowing his heel to find the cusp of Will’s ass, and, because he was nothing if not learned in the arts of seduction, rolled his hips into the other man’s defenseless thighs. The hand around his leg found new purchase on the wall next to Lo’s head as the hulking frame of his loving captain smothered him against the wall, pressing his hips impossibly closer to what Lo had just promised him. Lo chocked back on a curse at having his own impetuousness thrown back in his face, but he wasn’t complaining either. He laced both hands behind Will’s neck and redoubled in his lavishing of the man’s intoxicating mouth. The captain, having regained an inch of ground, dropped the hand from Lo’s waist to the top of his thigh, giving it a soft tap before grabbing the prince’s royal ass and lifting him up. Lo neither had the time to process or refute, his legs closing around Will’s waist on instinct as the larger man pinned him bodily to the wall, caging him in fully. All Lo knew was Will: his hand brushing the hems of various clothing pieces, the other hard against his ass, holding him up; his mouth having found the sweetest of spots just below his jaw, sucking at the sensitive skin there and eliciting sounds Lo had never known himself to utter so wantonly; the girth of the man, pressed impossibly close to him, yet, not close enough. Will’s mouth trailed down his neck, making goosebumps erupt along Lo’s skin, cresting against his collarbone. Will’s chest brushed against his, fabric hardened by dried blood overwhelming against his shot nerves. Will’s hand hooked the hem of his pants.

’Stop.’

Lo wasn’t even sure the word had left his mouth, but by the unnatural stillness that had taken over Will, he could only assume he’d thrown it out into the wasteland of lust and spare inches still between them. It even surprised him, and Lo found himself jerking back as it finally registered, his head smacking against the wall rather loudly, wide eyes blinking into Will’s confused and concerned gaze. Lo was further surprised by the rattling breaths he was struggling to force down his lungs, something that didn’t exactly align with the furious passion that had consumed the both of them but moments ago. Even Will’s breathes were calm, if deeper than usual. His gaze was so intense Lo had a hard time not squirming under it, keenly aware of where his legs were, and what squirming in his current position would accomplish.

‘Uhm… I…’ The prince stuttered out, scrambling to find his composure, or at least a semblance of control. Self-awareness, even, at this point, would have been more useful than the raw and filterless expressions he could feel flickering across his features. Will’s frown only deepened with every new arch of the prince’s eyebrow, his mouth, reddened by Lo’s onslaught, was rapidly thinning to a straight line. Lo wanted to move, desperately, to reach out, to comfort, to explain, but he himself was at a lost. Will quietly detangled himself from Lo as the silence stretched on between them, setting him back on the ground, his hands jerking away like burned from the slivers of skin peaking beneath his shirt hem. He took a step back, hurt flashing across his expression as Lo still struggled to swallow down the sudden panic rising in his throat, the air cold in all the places Will wasn’t anymore.

‘Right.’ Will whispered, and Lo’s gaze finally jerked up to the man’s face, but the captain was no longer looking at him, his eyes trained on the chair at the end of the hallway, on their previous goal before… this. ‘Sorry. I shouldn’t have…’

‘What?’ Lo croaked, and Will’s gaze landed on him again, disappointment and…

‘I shouldn’t have pushed.’ Disgust. Painted his features. But Lo wasn’t the target of the glare, and somehow, that hurt even more than if Will blamed him.

‘What?’ Lo could only repeat, nailed to the spot by the man’s expression, a sickening haze settling over his senses, his gut churning as everything felt like it was falling out of focus.

‘Last time…’ Will… Begged? The words coming out strained.

‘Wilhelm?’ He managed his name, cursed on his tongue with the weight it carried. The captain’s eyes fell again, to his hands which hung at his sides, empty.

‘Has nothing changed?’ So low, Lo almost missed it. His heart seized in his chest, painfully.

‘Will…’

’That’s… No, I know. I know,’ and Lo wanted to scream but couldn’t get a single thing past the swell of emotion in his chest, ‘I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up.’ And the last words were said with such finality it was like a punch to the sternum and Lo couldn’t breathe. Will took another step back, away from him, and reached for the knife he’d dropped in favour for Lo’s waist, and Lo couldn’t breathe. Will’s gaze turned to the end of the hallway again, carefully controlled, pinched in its attempt to remain impassive, and Lo couldn’t breathe.

‘We should-‘ And he was turning away, taking with him everything Lo had finally allowed himself to dream, to hope for, to want.

‘No, I-‘ Will was pulling away, slipping through his fingers no matter how hard he gripped.

‘Wilhelm-‘ His captain was leaving him, all because Lo couldn’t just…

‘I’m a virgin.’

Will stopped. Lo still couldn’t breathe. He watched, lungs burning, jealous, as his paramour sucked in a breath, and turned to look Lo in the eye. Their gazes clashed, golden blades against onyx hilts as the sparks caught and sizzled in the air between them. And the corner of Will’s mouth quirked up into the smallest of teasing smiles, and Lo’s chest finally expanded and he almost choked on the relief. He definitely hadn’t stared at the ceiling to stop embarrassed tears welling in his eyes.

‘You’re kidding.’ Said Will, but there was nothing mean in his words, more disbelief and a light prod and it forced a watery chuckle from Lo. He shook his head as a small smile split his own lips, his eyes closing as he rested his head back against the wall, his knees suddenly weak. Getting kidnapped hadn’t sucked the will from him as much as this. He felt more than heard Will approach him, a soft brush of fingers against his limp hand, the back of a knuckle against his cheek, wiping away a tear that had escaped. ‘Hey, it’s okay.’ His voice was so soft, so full of understanding Lo didn’t deserve.

‘It’s stupid.’ He said back with a humourless chuckle, but Will just tugged on a stray strand of hair and Lo cracked open an eye to give him an annoyed look.

‘It’s not.’ The captain assured the prince, a soft smile on his lips.

‘I’m sure it’s not what you expected.’ Lo muttered instead, somehow both embarrassed and oddly proud of the twinkle of amusement his lack of experience had put back in Will’s eyes.

‘It’s definitely better than what I was thinking.’ He admitted and Lo pursed his lips. ‘Last time we kissed-‘

‘I made a mistake.’ Lo cut in, catching Will off-guard with the sincereness in his eyes. Will blinked, but Lo just stared hard. If there was one thing this man needed to know, one thing Lo needed Will to understand, was that he wasn’t a mistake.

‘And this time?’ Asked Will lightly, knuckles resting against Lo’s cheek.

‘I… You surprised me.’ He breathed, and Will’s grin only grew, infectious. The prince peered up at him through his lashes and tried to stave off the blush threatening his already shattered ego. ‘I wasn’t lying earlier. I want… I want to live for something. Someone.’ Something flickered in Will’s eye, and Lo prayed to the gods to give him strength. The man would be the end of him.

‘Me?’ He quirked an eyebrow and Lo resisted an eye roll.

‘Maybe.’ He answered instead, eliciting a pout from the captain, but it soon turned mischievous.

‘Had I known…’ Will started, and Lo couldn’t help but groan.

‘Wilhelm…’ Lust flickered in the other man’s gaze and Lo tried, he really did, to reel in the need that was already starting to stir once more in his gut. He didn’t know if he should be impressed or frightened with how quick he could go from two-seconds-from-a-sobbing-mess to slam-me-in-the-wall-again-and-see-where-that-gets-you.

‘Look, I’m not going to take you for your first time in a random hallway in a manor you were almost just kidnapped in.’ He said, and Lo couldn’t help but notice that the issue was with the location and not the action and that decidedly did not help the lack of moisture in his mouth.

‘Why thanks darling, how considerate.’ He answered dryly, and there was his sorely missed sarcasm. Will’s grin only broadened impossibly further.

‘I know, you’re welcome.’ He quipped and gave the same strand another playful tug. ‘But I do have a real nice sleeping mat in the stables-‘

‘You are NOT suggesting to deflower me in a hay stack, Wilhelm.’ He snapped, but Will was chuckling, and set his forehead against Lo’s, effectively erasing the annoyance form the shorter man’s expression.

‘I wouldn’t dare, love.’ He whispered into the inch of space between their bruised lips and Lo’s heart fluttered wildly enough for him to wonder if Will could hear it. ‘Though, in my experience,’ and he weighed the word experience, just to spite him, ‘where we are doesn’t really matter about five minutes in…’

‘Captain Tyldree!’ Lo shrieked and Will’s hand covered his mouth as alarm shot through his expression. His eyes flashed to the staircase and dread pooled in Lo’s gut, only to be lessened a moment later when Will gave him a small chiding look.

‘How about we try _not_ to attract the rest of the guards to our position.’ He tried, and lowered his hand from Lo’s mouth at the prince’s ineffective glare.

‘Then don’t make me want to strangle you.’

‘Well, in the right circumstances-‘ Lo slapped his shoulder to shut him up and Will barely contained a full blown laugh with a wheeze and a cough.

‘Let’s just get this over with.’ Muttered the prince, pushing off the wall in the direction of the end of the hallway, ignoring the still suffocating captain behind him. Will stopped him with a light hand on his wrist.

‘Lo, I’m sorry,’ He managed through his still halting breaths. Lo skewered him with a look that had definitely been more effective when the man thought him the paramount of sex. ‘I’m glad you told me.’ Lo’s expression softened in spite of him, shoulder dropping with his hackles.

‘Yeah, you can tease me endlessly now.’ He muttered, but Will only shook his head, that same soft expression in his warm eyes.

‘I wouldn’t dare.’ He assured, and Lo worried his bottom lip before catching Will’s unwavering gaze.

‘Why then?’ He challenged, and Will’s lips quirked again, in that way Lo loved.

‘Because I probably would have been stupid about it, gone to fast, too hard. I might have hurt you.’ And Lo could almost see the fear there and wanted to roll his eyes. The man couldn’t hurt him if he tried. Fast and hard didn’t sound too terrible to him…

‘And now?’ Because he couldn’t help himself. Because he wanted to hear Will say it. The man took a step, closed the gap between them, and his other hand, the one holding the knife, twirled it expertly so that it lay against his back knuckles when he cupped Lo’s cheek.

‘Now, I can take all the time in the world, Lo.’ Will whispered against his lips, so the words fanned out, warm against Lo’s mouth. ‘As slowly, and reverently as I desire.’ Lo’s heart stuttered and fully stopped, it was the only explanation for the near painful physical reaction he had at the words. How was he supposed to keep his composure when Will was always undoing him so easily?

Another thud sounds down the hallway, from the obstructed door, and Will’s forehead dropped to Lo’s with a sigh.

‘I swear if that’s not the squire I’m murdering whoever keeps interrupting us.’ He muttered and Lo felt a laugh bubble to the surface, earning him another show stopping grin from the captain.

‘Even if it is the squire, I’m going to have a serious discussion about his timing.’ Lo answered, pulling away from Will’s embrace to walk up to the door, knife in hand. Will caught up and held the prince back at the last second with a cautious glance, pushing Lo behind his imposing frame. The royal rolled his eyes and quelled the warmth in his chest as he dropped into a defensive stance just behind Will’s shoulder. He wasn’t yet war-worthy, but he’d been picking up the knife skills surprisingly quickly. He could hold his own if the occasion arose. Still, if whatever was in the closet could get through Will, then there wasn’t much hope for him. The thought sobered Lo up, and he shook out his free hand to loosen his tense shoulders. Finding the spool of magic within him, he kept a taunt grip on the source, ready to pool all his resources at once. Will switched the grip on his dagger, and with a final flicker over his shoulder at Lo, he kicked the chair from under the knob, and yanked the door open.

The hinges squealed with unparalleled ridicule, and Will’s hand dropped as soon as the light from the hallway illuminated the confines of the closet. Lo peaked around the captain’s large shoulders and caught a glance of a bound and gagged squire boy, staring up at his two rescuers with abundant relief in his large amber eyes. The lanky kid had been sporting a well combed ponytail that now laid in disarray, a trickle of blood falling from his lacerated hairline, mingling with the dried tear tracks on his freckled cheeks. Will immediately dropped to his knees and removed the gag from the boy’s mouth while Lo kept a wary eye on the staircase, waiting for someone to intrude on their impromptu rescue at any point. The house, just to grate upon Lo’s nerves, remained quiet. Had the Duke such trust in his plans?

‘Exalted!’ Cried the squire, climbing to his knees and ducking his head in submission before Will had even finished cutting away the ropes around his wrists. Lo started, the formality sounding unorthodox considering he’d had his right hand man between his thighs not five minutes prior. The prince cleared his throat, readjusting his posture. He straightened his appearance minutely while said right hand man tried not to chuckle at Lo pulling his shirt over a blossoming hickey on his collarbone. ‘Mercenaries! They caught me just outside your chambers when I was on route to delivering your letter to Captain Tyldree-‘

‘Yes, we took care-’ said Lo, but the squire just kept barreling on with his side of the events, his head resting on the carpet, both hands stretched out, palms up in the greatest form of devotion. Will meanwhile, was gingerly unfolding the piece of parchment he’d rescued from the boy’s mouth.

‘I tried to yell, to warn you sire, but they hit me, and I only awoke just recently. I could hear a commotion, I tried to alert the Duke’s men-‘

‘Well, it’s a good thing you didn’t.’ Sourly cut in Lo.

‘Sire?’ The young man blinked confusedly up at the royal, long black lashes fanning his high cheek bones.

‘The Duke’s behind the attempt.’ Concisely explained Will, attention still on the wet parchment, trying to read the smeared ink. The squire’s doe eyes bulged at the news. He ducked his head again, chocolate curls bouncing as his forehead brushed the carpet and Lo looked to the heavens for guidance.

‘My most humble apologies sire, Had I known-‘ The boy sounded on the verge of tears, and by the reproachful side-eye Will was giving him, Lo figured it came to him to not worsen the current situation.

‘It’s fine, you were knocked unconscious-‘ He tried, but the boy only sniffled.

‘My battle skills are not worthy to be in your service sire!’ He exclaimed, new tears sliding down to crest on his wobbling chin and Lo felt at such a loss he couldn’t help but blame Will for stealing his suaveness. By the gods, the captain was a witch hellbent on stealing his carefully constructed royal persona, and he had succeeded. He threw the guilty party a glare and Will rolled his eyes. They conversed momentarily through a series of head nods and eyebrow raises until Will finally let the smeared parchment drop to his side and kneeled by the boy. The kid looked up through his bangs at the captain of the Naeve as Will donned a placating smile and set a large hand on the young man’s slim shoulder.

‘You did good.’ He said with a squeeze. The squire blinked great big tears out of his eyes and sniffed, nodding for the captain to go on. Will glance at Lo but the prince was intently admiring the crown molding as if he was planning on remodeling the castle hallways upon their return, so Will returned his attention to the boy and cleared his throat. ‘I’m proud of you?’ He tried, and for one slow second, the kid’s eyes filled precariously with water and Will raised both hands as if he’d be able to staunch the tears physically, and then, the boy started sobbing.

‘Nice work there captain,’ chuckle the prince and Will skewered him with a glare.

‘Yeah, because you did so much better, your highness.’ He threw back, but Lo stuck his tongue out and that made any repartee moot. The captain sighed deeply. He rather wished that tongue was put to better use. Lo set a hand on Will’s shoulder and gave a last despairing call to any Gods who may be looking over them.

‘Look.’ He started, and Will put his head in his hands. The kid sniffled again, peaking out from behind his hands. ‘Squire boy.’

‘His name is Waylen.’ Supplied Will lowly and Lo brushed away the fact like it was nothing more than a passing lapse.

‘Waylen,’ he started again, taking on a tone gunning for inspiring, ‘the Duke has made an attempt on my life. That is, above all else, the highest form of treason against the Isles, and the Mage Queens. We cannot stand down while this kind of evil still walks upon our land, do you understand?’ The boy was nodding along so Lo could only hope he’d be up to this task. ‘We need to get our men from the stables, we need to capture the Duke, alive-‘ Will made an unconvinced sound at that but Lo carried on ‘and secure this estate. Can you do that?’

‘All that?’ Squeaked the boy, looking between them with fear clear as day in his big round eyes.

’No, we just need you to get the men from the stable.’ Will stepped in, ‘Fidel and Gasbrought are asleep in the loft. Tell them about the attempt, and to come armed. The back door lock is broken, they can enter through there, though two men still patrol the perimeter.’

‘What if I’m caught!?’ Cried the kid and Lo restrained himself from shaking him. Thankfully, Will was more tactful.

‘You won’t be. Keep to the gardens, go right to the end, then jump over the hedges. Take this,’ he closed the boy’s fingers around a knife he’d lifted from one of the mercenary’s bodies, ‘just in case. Aim for the neck.’ The squire’s hand shook around the hilt, his grip was white knuckled, but he nodded his trembling chin.

‘What about you?’ He asked in a small voice, and Lo felt his earlier annoyance melt. Will’s gaze flickered up to the prince.

‘We have a few words for our dear host.’ Supplied the prince, voice laced with venom.

‘My best guess is he’s hiding out in the family wing. Tell Fidel and Gasbrought to go there as quickly as possible, and to knock out or restrain anyone they encounter. Use lethal force if necessary.’ The captain’s words were harsh, even lightened for the boy to more easily take in, and Lo fought off a shiver, both at the raw tone and the images that it invoked.

‘Lethal…’ parted back the boy, gaze fixed on the gleam of the knife in the lamplight. Will squeezed his shoulder again and something along the lines of resolve sparked in the squire’s gaze. The prince and the captain shared a look.

‘Let’s go.’

The mismatched trio quietly made their way down the stairs to the main floor. Will took the lead, dagger held loosely in hand, seemingly relaxed even as his footing remained sure and purposeful, his other hand on the hilt of his sword at his waist. The squire boy followed second, fearful eyes flitting over every shadow cast by the lamps lining the walls, while Lo pulled up the rear, his arm carefully held against his side to stop his multiple gold bands and bracelets from clinking together. The floorboards were mercifully silent and they reached the foyer without encountering a set of guards. The large wood paneled room was empty, cast in darkness as the servants had apparently thought it best to conserve candle wax in this section of the house. Faint moonlight pooled by the backdoors, beyond the low table and seats. The front door was directly opposite, and Will confirmed the presence of guards in the flickering torch light beyond the frosted glass.

‘Two men, guarding the front door.’ He whispered back, keeping his gaze fixed on the shadows distorted by the door. The kaleidoscope of fire light smattered the floorboards like waters coloured by sunsets. Had the cause not been so threatening, Will might have found it beautiful.

‘Twin men, barding the front moor.’ Whispered the squire back to Lo with all the seriousness in the world. Will might as well have impaled himself on his own sword.

‘What?’ Whispered back the prince, loud enough for Will to hear.

’Twin. Men. Bar-‘ Stage whispered back the squire.

’Tis when bart-?’ Repeated the prince.

’No, twin men-‘

’Shut up.’ Barked Will as loudly as he dared. The squire and prince looked sheepish, but Will did not have time to revel in finally having been able to shut up Lo. He swept the room, checking the other doors leading into the different parts of the manor, but this section of the house was virtually abandoned, bar the guards beyond the front door. Will dared to silently slide the bolt into place in the latch, just enough to give them a head start if the alarm was raised. While he believed in his abilities enough to take on the Duke and a small number of his personal guard, he’d rather wait on Fidel and Gasbrought to bring all these bastards to justice, especially if he was dragging along the prince behind him. Maybe alone, with a solid set of armour and a few more daggers, he could burn the place to the ground, but he couldn’t risk Lo. Knowing the prince, he would not be keen on being sidelined either.

The captain waved over the squire to the backdoor, peaking his head out to make sure the two guards were still off checking a perimeter somewhere, and ushered him out with a few final instructions.

‘Stay low, keep your guard up. Stay in the stables until we come for you. If no one comes by dawn, take a horse and ride hard for Lathander. Stop for nothing.’ The boy nodded through more silent tears, but his hands were shaking far less than before. Will tried not to feel guilty about dragging him into this mess, but Lo just had a tendency to get on the wrong side of people. Someone should have warned the kid when he got hired. Then again, if they all survived, they were all due a hearty raise, Will would make sure of it. ‘Steadfast now.’ He finished with a brave smile.

‘May the gods favour your skies and winds, may your enemies favour your mercy.’ Whispered back the squire and Will was surprised to hear the young boy utter the old prayer. Such sayings were lost in most social circles. Will himself had only learned it on the Front. War required as much faith as one could muster, after all. The captain swallowed thickly and watched the squire dart into the gardens beyond. He tracked the kid’s movement till past the flower beds, then lost sight of him in the foliage.

‘He’ll be fine.’ Whispered Lo, right behind his shoulder. Will jumped at the proximity, hadn’t heard him approach. The moonlight made Lo’s skin pearlescent in the night, shimmering blue where the shoulder seams had ripped. Will fought off the sudden urge to kiss the spot.

‘He’s too young to be part of a coup.’ He managed to articulate instead, unlocking his jaw that had wound too tight. Something like resignation flickered over Lo’s expression. His next words were so low, Will almost missed them, but the bitterness there caught his ear.

‘You’re never too young to die for your prince.’

‘Or your queen.’ Finished Will, causing Lo to look up sharply at him. A tense second ticked by where neither said a thing. Both simply stood, shouldering their share of the burden. Lo nodded shallowly, jerking his chin towards a door leading toward the eastern section of the manor, opposite the lush dining room Will had glimpsed at earlier. The captain nodded, taking the lead, a heavy hand on his sword pommel.

They crossed the foyer, ducking low to avoid the torchlight seeping in through the glass panes of the front door. Making their way around the staircase and through to the next room, the captain tried the door and found it simply latched rather than locked. It seemed their luck was turning. Will opened it a crack at first, but seeing the drawing room equally deserted, ushered in Lo after him, closing the door behind them. The click of the mechanism echoed strangely in the large space, bouncing off the dark windows and wooden floors like a bell, overloud in their best attempt at subtlety. Though, considering Lo’s general tendency for exuberance, and Will’s unmistakably imposing size, they weren’t exactly about to be confused for the furniture. Especially considering the decor was gaudy at best, stuffed settees and carved wood tables, overly opulent without an ounce of actual refinement. Lo brushed a finger over the pealing gold paint of the mantlepiece. The Duke was a fraud through and through it seemed.

‘I saw him heading this way earlier,’ explained the captain in low tones, his words but a whisper of a breath against Lo’s ear.

‘There’s a hallway after this, then his private quarters,’ supplied Lo, heartbeat fluttering madly. Their nearness was not exactly lending itself favourably to his self-control. The captain had donned his professional persona again it seemed, and he was rock solid before the prince who was usually so good at facing down his adversaries with the cold edge of his sharpened wit. He was going soft, clearly.

‘Stay behind me,’ ordered the captain, and Lo felt a sliver of self-respect return to him, his shoulder straightening out.

‘Only because you asked so nicely,’ he muttered.

Will graced him with a skeptical glance and a, ‘please?’ but only received a small pout.

They crossed the room, perfectly in synch, Lo practically stepping right where Will did had his legs been just an inch longer. The next door had a sliver of light peaking beneath the frame and Will stuck out a hand to stop the prince. Lo skidded to a halt, and inch from smashing his nose on Will’s shoulder blade. The captain pointed to the strip of light, and raised his dagger, looking for understanding in Lo’s eyes. It earned him a sole nod from the prince who raised his own weapon. Will counted down with his free hand. 3. 2. 1. Will’s hand curled around the knob, and a shadow darkened the light spilling beneath the door.

Lo felt his mind grind to a stall, but as per usual, at least one of the two of them was quick enough to keep them both alive. Will spun, grabbing Lo by the shoulders and pressed him against the wall behind the door in the time it took for the handle to turn. The latch clicked and Will was smothering the prince, the length of his body flattening the royal, his mouth somewhere in Lo’s dark curls, one hand over his mouth, the other holding his weapon in an iron grip. Lo’s heart was hammering so hard the sound alone should have given them away. The door’s hinges protested the movement, but light poured from the other room into the darkness blanketing the drawing room, outlining a vaguely humanoid shadow in the doorframe. Lo jerked reflexively at the sight and Will pressed himself impossibly harder against him. The tail end of a conversation filtered through.

‘You’re just pissed because you’re losing!’ Came the muffled voice of someone further inside the next hallway, followed by the clinking of metal and glass, the slosh of something spilling onto the floor.

‘I’m just taking a fucking leak, I’ll wreck you when I’m back!’ Answered the man in the door, low baritone and teasing tone. Something flew through the air and smacked against the door frame right near the shadow’s head, exploding into a confetti of small rectangular petals that floated to the ground. One slipped under the open door and Lo spied three crudely drawn women in dark cloaks staring back at him from the card’s surface. The irony of the Fates card was not lost on him.

‘The hell man I was wining!’ Came the first voice again, paired with the grinding of chairs on hardwood.

‘You were cheating.’ Muttered a third voice and dread settled in Lo’s stomach as the numbers of obstacles between him and revenge stacked higher and higher.

‘Was not!’

‘Well you were gonna while he was gone.’ Yet another voice, muttered surprisingly close to the door, probably right on the other side of the wall Will was asphyxiating Lo against. The man stepped out from behind the door, middle finger raised to the crowd he was leaving behind. His face was briefly illuminated and Lo recognized him as one of the men who’d scowled throughout dinner, standing a solid arm’s-length away at all times from his royal highness. Maybe the obstacles wouldn’t be so hard to get through after all, at least not morally.

The man spun on his feet, the door closing behind him, and walked away without so much as a glance for the two intruders entangled behind the door. Lo wanted to laugh, but his lungs were currently being compressed by his hulking personal guard. No sooner had the thought crossed his mind that Will pushed off him and silently crossed the floor in two long strides. Lo sucked in a shaky breath and watched his captain grab the guard from behind in a choke hold, one hand slapped across his mouth to keep him from screaming. The man flailed briefly, struggling to alert the others, but they had gotten the jump on him and he had nothing to grab but Will’s forearm as it crushed his windpipe. Lo didn’t count the seconds it took for the man to finally go limp, but it felt terribly long, standing there, watching. Will laid the body down gently, his movements bordering on motherly considering he’d just choked the man. He turned to Lo, and the prince tried not to shiver at the hardness in his gaze. He pitied anyone who might cross Will’s path on less than amicable terms.

Hand closing reflexively around the hilt still in his palm, Lo started to wonder when this night would finally end. There couldn’t be an endless amount of adrenaline pumping through his blood for much longer, his heart wouldn’t be able to take it. Not to mention the rise and fall of Will’s chest under the torn edges of his shirt, teasing the health right from his body, sculpted and broad and tantalizing. Lo swallowed even though the dryness of his mouth. Something was going to give out, either his lungs or the tightness in his lower abdomen, and he wasn’t sure which would go first.

‘Quietly.’ Reminded the captain with a finger to his lips, eyes dark and hard under the curls now sticking to his forehead, from blood, from sweat, who knew anymore. Lo nodded shallowly, eyes locked on the cut at the man’s shoulder which had reopened in the tussle, dripping down onto his ruined shirt. Will held his gaze. ’Three men.’ He signed, and Lo acquiesced, raising his eyebrows questioningly. What was his plan? Will raised his hand, palm out, and closed it in a swift motion, holding his fist aloft until Lo’s eyes shown with mischief and recognition. Vigor returning to his limbs, the prince reached out for the doorknob this time, but Will caught his arm, leaning in close enough for their chests to brush.

‘On me.’ He whispered against the shell of the prince’s ear, but with vigor came Lo’s best and brightest moments.

‘You’re forgetting who’s in charge here, darling.’ And with a wink, he flung open the door.

The effect of surprise was a glorious thing indeed. The three men, previously seated comfortably around a game of cards at a low table dragged into the large hallway, all jumped high enough to send their chairs kicking back. Two of the three managed to stand on precariously shaking legs, while the third went sprawling on the hardwood floor, spilling with him the surely alcoholic contents of a heavy tankard. The fools had kicked over small oil lamp in the fray with a haphazard limb, and it now laid sideways on the table top, illuminating the scene in tandem with two sconces on either side of a heavy door leading to the family wing beyond. Shadows danced heavily across their shocked and surprised faces as Lo waltzed through the door, knife in hand, smirk sharper than any blade. He let his eyes slip to fully black, just for effect, and regaled in the fear that etched itself across their faces. Too bad there wasn’t much time for theatrics.

Before either of the standing men could reach for the swords lying on the floor and against the wall, Lo tugged hard on the spool of magic within him, and every flame in the vicinity went out at once, plunging the scene into a darkness thicker than the inside of a casket. Lo’s other senses immediately peaked to compensate, though his vision did not dim to black. Instead, the whole room shifted to greyscale, painting the scene a strange monochromatic tinge. The prince marched on, unruffled by the effect, and slammed the hilt of his knife against the first of his victim’s temples, sending him crumpling to the ground like a puppet who’s strings he’d masterfully cut. Though his skills with a blade and hand to hand combat had vastly improved, he was by no means a skilled swordsman. He only hoped Will’s blind fighting training had been enough for the man to keep up, because he wasn’t taking down three armed guards on his own.

The unsheathing of a sword over his left shoulder let him know Will had joined the fight, steel blade biting into his own opponent’s with enough force to spark. The second guard fell back a step, eyes darting around trying to find Will’s position in the darkness. The guard swung out his sword, the blade cutting through the air with a hiss, but met only empty space as Will side stepped it within an inch of the tip. He stood remarkably firm, feet sure as they landed, and he counterattacked with a jab that caught his opponent’s upper thigh. Lo still kept a wary eye on him. No matter his skill, his captain was still as blind as the opposition.

Sidestepping the body of the man he’d dropped, the prince walked over to the guard whose chair had fallen back during the initial flair of belligerence. With a quick kick, Lo sent the stout man’s sword skidding across the floor beyond his outstretched hand’s reach. The rattling of the buckle against the floor board was enough indication for the man to cuss. Lo was considering whether to knock this one out as well when a vice closed around his ankle and yanked, sending the royal stumbling. He looked down with a hiss to find a smirking guard staring a few inches too far to the right of where Lo’s head was. The man yanked again before Lo could steady and sent the prince sprawling on his hands and knees. His own blade skidded out of reach and he cursed, watching it still near the other’s sword. Propping a foot under him, Lo prepared to lunge for it, but a solid mass slammed into his side, sending him tumbling into the wall. The air momentarily refused to enter his lungs, and Lo blinked the black and white stars out of his eyes, finding the guard he’d scorned straddling his hips, hands searching the darkness to pin his wrists. The prince bucked on instinct, but the guard was a heavy man who’s hands only flailed before landing on Lo again, one on his chest and the other on his horns. All thought left the sane part of his mind as the man’s thick fingers curled around the ridges of his devilish protrusions. Some fleeting memory about hand to hand combat practice with Will flitted in and out of his brain without attaching to much. Will had never grabbed his horns. Pure instinct overrode any sensible thought and he was shoving at the man’s chest with everything in him, grunting against the guard’s anchor-like weight keeping his lungs from filling fully. The hand that had landed on Lo’s chest managed to grab one of his wrists, too tight, and pulled it away from where his nails had drawn blood on the guard’s shoulder. Twisting, Lo reached up and racked his other claw-like nails across the man’s face, leaving deep gouges across his cheek. Lo took sick satisfaction in watching the blood poor down the vile man’s face, seeing the pain flicker across his eyes before they hardened with evil glee. The guard tugged on Lo’s horn, forcing his head up off the ground, and with the ferocity of a scorned heterosexual, slammed it back down against the ground. Lo’s ears ringed ominously as the pain refused to register for a few long seconds. Once he blinked the world back into focus, his second hand was also pinned next to his head, and the villainous man was leaning ominously over his prone body.

‘Fuck,’ slipped through his lips, along with the strong tang of copper, but that at least brought his awareness back up a peg.

‘Yeah, ya bloody poncy.’ Sneered the man leering in the general region of his head. The lack of windows was definitely befitting the situation because Lo probably wouldn’t have been able to keep his dinner down had the close up of the man’s horrid face been in full color. Which was a strange thought to have at all when someone’s hand were wrapping themselves around your neck. Lo belatedly realized the oxygen wasn’t exactly travelling to his brain anymore, which wasn’t much of an improvement on his predicament from a few moments ago, but change wasn’t always good. Something urgently assuming the seat of his consciousness and sounding strangely like Will, when the man was reprimanding him for taking all of Fidel’s clothes in agame of poker and forcing the man to walk back to the barracks naked in the knee-high snow, echoed around the back of his brain: DO SOMETHING (fool). Lo’s mouth opened to scream, but his squished airways weren’t exactly lending themselves to proper speech, but his hands were free seeing as the guard’s where otherwise occupied plunging Lo into unconsciousness. His hand flew out and made sound contact with the wall, sending a small spike of pain through his wrist, but that was the least of his problems. The clatter of steel was still sounding somewhere off near where the door was, but Lo prayed Will wasn’t too busy he couldn’t spare a second to save his charge, and slammed his fist against the plaster in a quick morse SOS, another useful trick the know-it-all-soldier had thought to impart him.

He almost instantly heard the swords start to impact quicker, powerfully one-sided in their repeated impact. A shuffle, a cry as a sword bit into someone. Who? Lo couldn’t tell, the sounds starting to distort as his vision darkened at the edges. He thumped a weaker call against the wall, the strength leaving his limbs as the guard’s nails dug crescent-moons on Lo’s neck. A louder cry this time, a wail in harmony with the shrill ring of steel through flesh, and Lo’s vision faded to pinpricks, the world suddenly miles away.

Unconsciousness tickled his senses, teasing, tempting.

The pressure lifted. Lo’s lungs burned ferociously and he gasped in a breath so quick he was almost drunk on the sudden oxygen flooding his body. A hacking cough tore through his chest, and he noticed for the first time since sight had deemed it fit to return to duty as one of his senses, that he was pinned under the heavy body of the guard. Rather, what was left of it. With a wheeze, Lo manage to wiggle out from under it, the smell of blood hitting him right before he spotted the truncated end of the guard’s neck. The head had been completely severed from the body, and Lo had been showered in arterial blood. Lo’s singular thought about that was on how much of a pain washing the blood out of his good night shirt was going to be.

He managed to wedge a hand out from underneath the guard’s corpse, and, still panting, wrench himself free of the offending weight. Gasping, the prince managed to level onto his knees, hand reaching to massage the tender flesh of his neck, only to find it coated in a thick viscous coating of blood. He could feel it, still warm, rolling down his jaw like a scarlet tear. Still, better than the alternative ending to that scenario. Thank the gods for Will’s swift intervention. Why had he left Lo pinned under a corpse? And why was it suddenly so quiet, bar his panting breaths? Lo’s head shot up, and something cold and hard dropped in his gut at the scene that greeted him.

‘Stay back or I slit his fucking throat. Do you hear me?’ Hurled out the guard from behind Will’s shoulder. It hit Lo like a physical blow, sending his already frayed nerves right over the edge, his hands shaking as he carefully propped himself up into a crouching position. It was the man he’d knocked out earlier, apparently with not enough force. ‘Stay where you are. I know you’re over there, don’t move!’ Barked the man, angling the knife against Will’s jugular.

Lo was not a patient man. His biological mother was a fighter, a woman of short words and shorter temper. She’d rather fend off the naysayers with the edge of her blade than with the cutting of her words. Lo had inherited many things from her, but he’d been more politically inclined before he could even talk. His adoptive mother, the Mage Queen of Lathander, had nurtured this side of him, making a weapon out of his tongue and wit. However, some situations still arose when Lo rather thought that, perhaps, a show of power was exactly what was needed.

The sconces flared to life before he had even risen to his full height, slowly, inch by inch. The flames grew with him, climbing to unnatural heights, casting long shadows along the hallway floors, already splattered with blood, and unnatural heat onto the last occupants. The prince of Lathander let the fool blink the pinpricks of light out of his vision before tilting his head back, letting his dark indigo hair fan across his forehead, long lashes framing pitch black eyes. The demon prince let his lips split into an unhinged smile, fangs gleaming with blood in the rising flames. The dead man’s blood covered his front, from his chin down to his navel as if he’d torn the guard’s head from his body with his teeth. Dark spindling veins webbed out from either eye, cutting across his blue skin, down his neck and shoulder, over the exposed expanse of his chest, like charred scars.

‘W-What the-‘ stuttered the man, taking a hesitant step back was Lo advanced slowly, walking purposefully, heel to toe with excruciating intent. Will stumbled back against the guard, the blade biting just enough to made blood seep onto the knife’s edge. Will’s expression was stony, but the edge of a smirk played with his lips. The sight of the blood sent something icy through Lo’s veins and he rose both arms on either side of him for effect.

A loud howl echoed from further down the hall behind him, making the guard shiver and jerk as Will tried to keep the knife from accidentally impaling him.

‘Demon!’ Spat the guard. The wind picked up in response, ruffling their clothes and making goosebumps rise across the man’s arms as his eyes started to flicker to the tall flames along the walls and his dead comrades. Lo could see him fidgeting, see the will leave his eyes. He needed only one more push.

‘Unhand my servant, fool.’ Lo rasped out, his crushed vocal chords lending themselves well to his demonic role. ‘Run.’

The man didn’t need to be told twice. The knife dropped from his hand like burned, and he spun on his heel fast enough to get whiplash. Will, though, was faster, grabbing the man by the back of his shirt and flinging him down like nothing more than an annoying pest. The man gave a cry as he fell back onto the floor with a smack, but Will just slammed his fist into his jaw hard enough for Lo to hear a crack, sending the guard into unconsciousness. Or death, Lo wasn’t picky.

For a beat, both the prince and the captain stood on opposite sides of the body, dragging matching breathes into bruised and battered chests. Then, as one, they were reaching for each other in tandem. Will’s arms went to Lo’s shoulders, so tight the grip was almost painful but Lo couldn’t mind when the man was there, holding him, alive and mostly unharmed. Will’s eyes scanned him from head to toe, searching for any hair out of place and Lo couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his lips, because he was utterly covered in drying blood and still letting the thaumaturgy wear off, his eyes only just returning to their natural golden color. The sconces died back down to their normal heigh, casting a soft warm glow over the pair. The captain’s eyes followed the sound and landed on Lo’s lips as if it was the sole place they could ever truly rest, his arms curling around his shoulder to his back, tugging him closer. Lo’s own hands cupped Will’s face, leaving a streak of blood across his cheek bone, but he wouldn’t have minded if the prince started drawing runes on him at that point. They were both a mess, but they were both alive, and fine, and that was enough. More than enough.

‘Are you okay?’ Asked Will in whisper so low it made the whole hallway and its multiple corpses seem somehow intimate.

‘Far from it.’ Chuckled the prince, who couldn’t help the euphoria overtaking his senses. Or deliriousness, he couldn’t be sure. Was human blood poisonous to half-demonic entities? ‘You?’

‘Bloody peachy.’ Answered Will, his own crazed smile gracing his lips. ‘Tonight’s been-‘

‘A fucking mess, yeah.’ Finished Lo, but Will only smiled wider.

‘I was gonna say the best date of my life.’ He said instead, and Lo felt his cheeks color under all the blood and grime.

‘Oh? This is a date now? Where on earth did you get that idea darling?’ Inquired Lo, but Will only reached from his pant pocket and retrieved a crumpled and moist piece of parchment smeared with ink.

‘Why did you keep the squire’s gag?’ Asked the prince with the drop of disgust befitting his station. Will’s eyes crinkled with amusement.

‘You said your last letter never arrived?’ Hinted Will and Lo’s eyes went wide. He reached to yank it out of the man’s hand, but Will was quicker, and taller, and held it aloft. ‘C’mon now, it’s was for me!’

‘That was before I was the victim of an attempted kidnapping!’ Hissed Lo, reaching to grab it, using the captain as a stepping stool. Will’s arm only tugged the prince against his chest where he landed with a cute huff, his feet barely bushing the floor.

‘Does that change anything?’ He asked in all seriousness, and Lo’s hand dropped around Will’s neck. The man’s lips were still frozen in a smile, but his eyes were searching Lo’s expression for something in particular. Lo wasn’t sure how many times he was supposed to assure his captain that he wasn’t playing with him anymore. Then again, some apologies were more convincing than others. Instead of answer, Lo leaned in and eliminated the inches that still separated them, one hand reaching up to tangle in the mop of curls on Will’s nape, and tugged his head back until their lips were but a breath away. Will made a soft sound, and the rest of his question was lost to the softness of Lo’s lips as they crashed into his, ardent and yielding all at once.

The moment was short lived, both still struggling to fill their lungs after their respective life-endangering activities. They broke apart with a chuckle and a sigh, gasping for breath. Will gently set Lo back down on solid ground, but kept a firm arm around his waist, bending to height to set his forehead against Lo’s.

‘I can’t believe you didn’t know the name of the squire who’s been travelling with us for weeks now.’ He whispered, and Lo laughed outright, bright and light and Will’s heart did a strange kind of flip in his chest he was sure was detrimental to his health. With his head thrown back, mouth split in a smile, eyes crinkled with delight, the prince was a sight to behold. His grin was infectious, and Will would give the world to keep that glint of mischief in his golden eyes forever.

‘Two weeks, in my defense. And I didn’t hire him, darling. You did. Because you found him attractive.’ Quipped Lo, and watched Will’s cheek color a wonderful shade of pink.

‘That is… That’s not…’ He grasped at straws.

‘He is the worst squire this side of the Wystir mountains darling.’ Deadpanned Lo. Will grappled a bit longer, opening and closing his mouth without much leaving it, until a frown marred his handsome features.

‘You said you liked him when I introduced you!’ He accused. Lo patted his cheek comfortingly, wicked glee written clear as day on his face.

‘Because he looks exactly like me if my father had been a little less demonic, darling. Who am I to deny you a reminder of my wonderful self?’ He winked. Will’s shade of pink was veering decidedly scarlet and Lo deemed it beneficial for his blood pressure to end his misery. ‘It’s alright darling, you have a type. That’s nothing new. He’s a bit young though, no?’ Quipped the prince, spinning on his heels without as much of a backwards glance, leaving Will gapping in his wake. ‘Come along now, we shouldn’t leave the Duke waiting!’

Will followed, dazed and still searching for a comeback.

The hallway lead into a second one, perpendicular to the first, and running along the length of the family wing. A beautifully crafted wooden staircase rose to the house’s second floor, where the private quarters of the Duke were. The hallway continued into servants’ quarters. They pondered taking the servants’ staircase up, but decided that if the noise from their fight in the hallway hadn’t alerted anyone yet, than taking the main staircase wasn’t going to cost them too much more. Will took the steps two at a time, Lo trailing just behind, twirling the captain’s knife between his fingers.

‘You said he had one man with him?’ Called back the captain.

‘Yes, a tall ginger with a scar.’ Replied the prince, gesturing to his cheek and nose. Will nodded.

‘I’ll take him.’

‘You’re leaving me the Duke? How kind darling.’

‘Well, I do want to get at least one good hit in, if you don’t mind, of course.’ Said Will with a short mock-bow and a smirk that made Lo’s chest constrict in a new kind of way.

‘I think that can be arranged.’

The floor was deserted when they reached it, but a steady thudding sound was emanating from behind the most elaborate doors. Once level with it, the sound became unmistakable, and Will and Lo share an equally disgusted look.

‘You don’t think?’ Asked Will with all the reticence in the world concentrated into those few words. Lo was already nodding.

‘Oh, I do think. I think very much. Say, do you get the chance to kick in doors very much?’ He inclined his head to the captain, offering the cheekiest of smiles. Will returned an unsure look.

‘You don’t want to let them… finish?’ He asked as if the option was only slightly more appealing than licking the underside of his boot.

‘No, I have other matters to attend to, so I’d rather we do this quick.’ Explained the prince, but only gaining a confused frown from the captain.

‘You do?’

‘I do.’ Insisted Lo, with a pointed look. Understanding hit Will like a smack to the back of the head, his eyes widening and an uncontrollable smile overtook him. Lo gestured to the door, and without more preamble, Will took a step back and kicked out, his heel landing near the lock. The lock snapped through the wooden frame like a canon crack, splintering and sending a small cloud of wood dust to blanket the scene beyond the busted door. Nothing could have prepared either of them for the sight.

The door swung out to reveal the Duke, seated on a small plush bench with his bare back to the newcomers. His shoulders were hunched and tense, his right arm jerking wildly enough to make his faint combover dance across the bald spot on the back of his skull. A large fourposter bed was placed between the two bay windows along the back wall, its lush scarlet bedding thrown to the ground, leaving the two naked occupants bare and visible to all who dared breakdown the bedroom door. The fornicators, in the midst of their tryst, managed to pry their respective tongues free from the other’s mouth at the sound of the lock shattering under Will’s foot, and had the decency to jump apart, eyes shooting to the new intruders. Lo took great delight in detailing the red hair and scar on the face of the male counterpart. Meanwhile, the Duke had jerked so hard at the sound he’d fallen right off his bench, his hand still clenched between his thighs.

‘Oh my, are we interrupting?’ Quipped Lo with unrestrained wicked delight. The Duke sputtered, eyes wide and slowly filling with rage from his prone position at the demon prince’s feet. The scarred guard lunged out of bed, reaching for a sheathed sword propped against the wall with a snarl. The woman clambered out as well, reaching for the sheets to cover her nakedness. Lo tried his best not to start cackling with glee.

‘You!’ Screamed the Duke, frozen on the floor, curling into his particular brand of putrid with every inch of his being. Lo felt his smile twist into a sneer at the sight.

‘Yes, me,’ he spat with unreserved venom, ‘surprised?’ Lo stepped fully into the room, prowling towards the naked urchin who dared call himself a member of nobility. Will darted out from Lo’s shadow, running to intercept the enraged guard, now armed with a sword in addition to the erection he was still sporting. Lo hoped his captain swung low. Just for petty revenge.

‘How dare you-‘

‘What? Be alive or walk in on your own personal little show?’ Cut in Lo, still approaching, enjoying how the man recoiled with every step. ‘Because I am a member of the royal family. And you? You have scorned a man with the power to destroy every despicable letter in your name.’ He spat out every syllable with the bitterness that had filled him ever since their fateful show down in the court of Lathander.

‘You’ll pay for this. You and your fucking-‘ The Duke’s words were cut off by Lo’s ring digging into his cheek as the prince swiftly backhanded him. The man’s face snapped to the side and the prince loomed over this shriveled, putrid man.

‘Call him by anything else than his title and I will have you killed.’ Snapped Lo with white hot heat behind every word.

‘You wouldn’t.’ Snarled the man, still reeling from the slap. Lo’s lips only slid into a comfortable sneer. He titled his head back, scanning the room for his captain. Will was looming over the inert body of the guard, chest heaving with heavy breaths, a fresh cut on his forearm, and the man’s sword in his own hand.

‘Wilhelm, darling?’ Called the prince with an air of ease and leisure. The captain looked back at Lo, eyebrow cocked at his theatrics. ‘What’s the word again, for unintended loses in battle?

‘Collateral damage?’ Guessed the man, and Lo hummed with delight, his gaze landing anew on the trembling form of the Duke.

‘Ah, yes. Collateral damage.’ Repeated the demon prince, each word dripping with the threat. The duke’s adam’s apple bobbed.

At that moment, Fidel and Gasbrought barged in through the still open door, both out of breath and covered in a handful of new minor injuries. Their eyes scanned over the room quickly, their shoulders dropping with clear relief at seeing the prince and captain relatively unharmed.

’Sire.’ They ducked into a quick bow and Lo waved away the formalities with a flick of his wrist.

‘Gentlemen, nice of you to join us.’ Quipped the prince, watching the Duke’s expression fall even further. ‘I trust it wasn’t too hard to find us?’

’The kid gave solid directions.’ Intoned Gasbrought at the same time as Fidel said,

‘We just followed the bodies,’ garnering a soft chuckle from Will, whose own expression had cleared significantly at the sight of his live men.

‘I’m glad. I trust one of you has a solid length of rope?’ Asked Lo, eyes never leaving the despair growing in the Duke’s eyes.

‘Of course sire.’ Called out Gasbrought, gathering the hempen rope at his belt.

‘Good. You are to place the Duke of Mirtimbug under arrest. Take him and his men into custody.’ The words were like the sweetest honey on his lips. His gaze lifted and crossed with Will’s, seeing the same satisfaction there.

‘Charges, sire?’

‘He is stripped of all titles, land, and men until he can appear before the Queens on charges of kidnapping, attempted murder, and treason.’

‘Yes sire,’ answered the two Naeve in sync. Fidel stepped forwards to start biding the Duke’s hands, but Gasbrought hesitated, his eyes flickering to the woman standing on the other side of the bed, scantily clad in nothing more than a bed sheet. ‘What of the woman?’ Lo’s gaze rested on her proud form for a few instants.

‘I’ll take care of it. See to your orders.’ He waved him away and Gasbrought bowed his head before crossing the room to clasp Will’s hand and check on the hopefully unconscious guard. Their punishment would be much more satisfying than outright death, and the prince would make sure it was befitting of every bitter word they had thrown at Will from across the court room all those weeks ago. Lo curled his hand to the brunet, and she approached cautiously. Eyes rimmed in charcoal, she wore the bedsheet like a robe of the finest silk, and Lo couldn’t help but respect her poise. She stopped an arm’s reach away, tilting her chin up to meet the demon prince’s gaze.

‘Did he pay you?’ Lo cut to the chase. The woman didn’t even bother looking insulted, instead, her pretty bow lips pursed and she sized him up.

‘I take payment before service.’ She answered, accent surprisingly sharp.

‘Often?’ He inquired and she smiled at his cunning.

‘Twice a week, sire.’ And she curtsied a little, happy to put on a show for the right price.

‘You must have heard many things. From his guard,’ and Lo waved in the general direction of the now bound guard, ’perhaps?’ Her smile turned cat-like.

‘Of course. But my silence is bought, exalted.’ She inclined her head, looking at him through her eyelashes. Lo chuckled softly.

‘How much to have you testify to his involvement in what happened tonight?’

‘How much are you offering?’ She asked, and Lo outright laughed, catching Will’s eye from across the room. Lo looked over the captain, the exhaustion and relief in the line of his shoulders, the softest of smiles on the corner of his mouth, like a promise. Lo would have given her the world right about then if it meant he could keep Will all to himself, even if for just a night.

‘Tell me where the closest tavern with a half decent bed is, and you can have all the gold in the kingdom.’ He answered.

‘Of course, exalted.’ She curtsied low, but Lo’s eyes never left Will’s.

~/~

It was not before the early hours of the morn that Will and Lo were left alone again. The painted woman had taken her leave after confirming her appearance at the Queen’s Meet at the end of the month to accept her payment and give her version of events. Lo had slipped her a few gold pieces for “travel expenses” and she’d practically sworn fealty right there and then. They’d spent the late evening rounding up the rest of the Duke’s men, relieving them of both their duty and weapons. With only three men on hand, it had been a feat and a half. It had dragged on long enough for Lo to finishing drafting two letters detailing the events that had taken place, one meant for the nearest regiment, asking for reinforcements, and the other for the Queen Mages. He’d seen off Waylen in the dead of night, alone, from the front steps of the Duke’s house. Will had been subduing the men needing a harsher explanation as to the new state of affairs. Some had put up a fight, others, like two perimeter guards, had surrendered more than willingly. A few extra scrapes had been earned, but thankfully, the evening cost no more lives on either side.

Once the manor had been secured, the Duke and his guards sequestered in the cellar, Fidel and Gasbrought had urged their captain and prince to take a few hours rest. Lo was ready to sleep where he stood, and Will, though not showing any outwards sign of the exhaustion he felt, hadn’t put up a fight. The two men would take over the watch of the Duke’s men until reinforcements arrived the next day, and the other two would retire until they needed to greet the incoming forces. Gasbrought had insisted on calling a doctor from the town over to check on their injuries, but Will had instead offered to take Lo to the nearest inn and call the doctor there. The unflappable prince had almost cried at the suggestion. Fidel and Gasbrought knew better than to contradict their superiors, but moreover, they weren’t blind to long glances the captain and prince would share when they believed no one was looking. An single night would not cost anyone.

They’d ridden over in silence, the weight of the evening feeling like the world on their slumped shoulders. The seemingly tireless captain had kept a wary eye on the bobbing head of the prince as they’d travelled under the stars, the sky having cleared sometime in the thick of things. Lo had almost slipped out of the saddle twice, giving the taller man enough of a near heart attack to keep him awake until they spotted the twinkling lights of the small village beyond a bend. Its was nothing more than a handful of houses, an apothecary, and a tavern with a few rooms above the bar. Will had glimpsed at the light of dawn on the horizon and pretended it was dusk.

They’d dismounted in front of the tavern, tying their horses to the post out front. Will’s stallion had not been fussy, used to trenches and the harsh climate of the wystir mountains, but Malory had looked downright insulted at the lacking state of the accommodations. Lo would have held a similar expression had he had the strength to do so much as frown. Will was one more faltering step away from picking up the man and carrying him up the stairs himself.

They’d stumbled into the establishment and Lo had collapsed into the nearest seat while Will had fetched the owner from the backroom. Low conversations and more gold than the ruffled old woman had seen that month was enough to buy them a room, privacy, and - god-sent - a bath. The doctor had gone out on a call earlier that evening, but she would get him over as soon as he returned, and instead offered the battered pair some dressings and a mild ointment she’d had on hand. Will had accepted them with perfuse thanks. He’d had to wake the prince from where he’d fallen into a light slumber, sprawled in the sodden bench, frowning even in his sleep. The prince had offered up no quick jab or even a suggestive comment when he heard they’d be sharing a bed, and that had been more telling than anything else in Will’s eyes. The exhaustion ran bone deep, in both of them.

The room was a bare thing, nothing more than a mattress (which was already miles beyond Will’s sleeping mat in the stables), thin sheets, and a fraying carpet. Will had closed the shutters against the impending dawn, and Lo had lied down on top of all the blankets without as much of a word before promptly falling back asleep. Will had waited until a young red-faced boy appeared with a bath and buckets of steaming water to wake him again. By then, the lady of the house had already brought up the dressings, towels, and a fine blanket of woven cotton. Her eyes had lingered on the sleeping prince’s form long enough for Will to step in between them and thank her politely, if firmly, for her hospitality. He’d eyed the bath himself for a long second, watching the curls of steam with an ache not unlike he’d felt upon seeing Lo when he’d returned from the Front, last. But that thought alone had pushed his own selfish desires square out of his mind.

He placed a gentle hand on the prince’s cheek and coaxed him awake with sweet words and careful caresses. The royal stirred, blinking up blearily at the captain. Sitting up, his eyes scanned to room and spotted the bath at the foot of the bed, his expression easing into something as close to delight as he could muster. The half-asleep prince didn’t put up a fight as Will carefully peeled the hardened shift from his shoulders, watching Will’s actions through half lidded eyes. The captain tried to keep his actions clinical, professional, but even he couldn’t deny himself a few lingering touches. His fingertips skimmed the bruises blossoming on the prince’s neck and he shivered. Will jerked away on instinct, but Lo caught his hand with surprising speed, clearly more awake than he was letting on.

’No,’ escaped his lips with the quality of the lightest of kisses, ‘keep going.’ Will would never be able to deny the man anything. He didn’t even dare try. His palms splayed out over Lo’s fine shoulders, skimming his arms as he pulled the remnants of the ruined shirt down to his wrists, leaving trails of goosebumps in the wake of his featherlight touch. It was not like the captain had never undressed him before. Lo leafed through memories of Will’s soft footfalls as the man carried him to bed after he’d fallen asleep at his desk while they’d been going over reports. Will’s calloused fingers against his skin was familiar, comforting. They drew long lines along his indigo skin made of patience and yearning, and Lo watched them color and swirl like stirring calm waters.

Lo lifted both hands, let his captain tug the sleeves over his bangles and bracelets. A soft unsaid question, the slightest of nods, and Will untangled the necklaces from around his neck, his horns, carefully pried the bracelets and rings off his wrists and hands, leaving him bare to the waist. Will vaguely realized this was the first time he’d ever seen Lo without a treasure trove worth of gold weighing him down. Without the distracting amount of jewels, his eyes shown like twin gold stars in the midst of his dark indigo face, a doting of constellation freckles across the bridge of his nose. If not for the flickering lamp light, casting flame-like glints across the gold of the man’s irises, Will could have mistaken him for the night sky.

‘Stand up,’ whispered Will, the space they had created between their bodies too intimate for anything louder. Lo didn’t move for a long while, his head ducked, dark blue curls hiding his expression. Hesitantly, aware of the thickness in the air, the honey-like consistency of exhaustion mingled with heavy need, rooted somewhere between their respective feet and the creaking floor, Will lifted a hand to Lo’s face. His knuckles brushed the bruise on his cheek, the dark purple like makeup smeared under his eye, and tipped back is head until their gazes were forced to cross. Lo let him, pliable in his sword-calloused hands, yielding. They stared at each other, each puzzling out the other’s expression in the quiet, heavy night.

‘You’re not very good at giving me orders.’ Breathed Lo, too tired to be teasing, too teasing to be true. Will settled on a drained smile, lost somewhere in the galaxies dotting the prince’s cheeks.

‘Maybe you’re just bad at following them. Ever thought of that?’ It earned him a soft smile.

‘I don’t have to,’ Lo drawled back, head lolling all the way back with a groan. Will cocked an eyebrow. ‘I’m a prince,’ he explained with a vague gesture to himself, as if it was self-explanatory.

‘Lo, even if you weren’t a prince, you’d be the bane of someone’s existence.’ It was meant to garner a chuckle, and it did, but it died quickly, leaving behind a bitter taste in Lo’s mouth. Will watched the slightest of smiles slip off of Lo’s face and couldn’t bring himself to feel anything else than the harsh spike of fury that tore through him anytime he was faced with the injustice of their meetings. It was the sweetest kind of agonies, what they shared, and Will would trade the warmth of the sun for the heat of Lo’s embrace if the fates ever gave him the choice.

‘But I am a prince.’ Whispered Lo, the words charged between them. They held in the air for a few seconds, building, growing, swallowing up all the air in the room until they became huge, swollen with meaning. Only then did they drop to the space between their feet, shattered in a symphony of silence, and dissipated into the frayed edges of the carpet. Will’s watched them disappear completely, before finding the strength to face Lo again.

‘You don’t have to be,’ he said softly. Lo’s gaze left the carpet, found anchorage somewhere in Will’s. ’Not now.’ Will stepped between Lo’s legs, ducking as his hand came up to cup the man’s face. ’Not tonight.’ His lips pressed lightly against Lo’s, just enough to leave the imprint of the kiss on his lips, even as he leaned away. _Not with me_ , was left unsaid.

‘Okay.’

It was slow, painfully so. They both ached from the evening, from the fights, from the travelling, from the months of denying themselves. It was like stretching out a muscle that had atrophied from disuse, long, in stages, and greatly aided by warm baths. Lo tugged Will’s shirt free from all the small nicks and cuts it had tried to encrust itself into, like prying clenched fingers away from a dead lover. Some of them would scar, but Will’s dark skin was already a canvas of pink puckered ridges. They arched across his chest and arms like an abstract language made of long thin lines and the occasional starburst. Lo decided he would map them, tonight, with the pads of his fingertips, with the soft curve of his bottom lip. The sword was harder, the buckle a complicated thing that Will deftly fingered off, propping the weapon near Lo’s abandoned jewelry which the captain had made a neat pile of. They could leave both there, the gold and the sword, and run into the dawn and never think about what would happen after sun up, and the though was something Lo allowed himself, just for the night.

The pants were easier. A small tug at the laces and they fell open without fanfare. Will’s gaze was nowhere other than Lo’s face, watching with unparalleled intensity the man peel off his slacks with the slow revelry of naive discovery. Lo was never one to shy under attention, but his cheeks pinked despite him. He tugged them all the way down, let them pool around Will’s ankles and realized his mistake. A furrow formed between his brows and Will had never felt such acute need to kiss away the wrinkle.

‘Oh.’ Was all Lo said, frowning down at the captain’s boots. Will was about to lean down to unlace them when Lo slid off the bed and kneeled in from of him, casual in his easy servitude. Will stared hard at the crown of Lo’s head, the curling of his horns and mess of dark blue hair, as if he’d never seen it before even though he had a few inches on the man. Lo carefully pulled Will’s foot onto his lap, and tugged at the knot with his long fingers. Will wanted to argue, but something solid and warm and hard to swallow was making any kind of answer rather difficult. He watched Lo loosen the laces slowly, as if all the time in the world could be given to the menial task. Gods, Will had unlaced his boots a thousand times, and it had never seemed to his such a suggestive act. Yet, as Lo’s head angled back to catch his eye, the sight of the man, completely deferential, sent Will tumbling over the edge of logic. ‘The other one,’ was all he said, ducking his head again to unlace Will’s other boot with all the same ceremony. The idea of ever having to take them off himself again was oddly unpleasant.

‘Lo-‘

‘Take them off.’ Muttered the prince, standing once more. Will numbly toed out of them, then stepped out of his pants, left in nothing more than a thin pair of underwear in the surprising chill of the room. Lo spared the unmistakable bulge he was sporting a look, before walking over to the steaming bath, still in his own pants and boots. He glanced over his shoulder when Will didn’t follow, frowning slightly. ‘What are you waiting for?’ He asked, as if Will’s next action was rehearsed. If so, Will had burned the script along with all his other worldly attachments. All he wanted, all he was, was Lo.

Lo gestured to the bath. ‘Get in.’

‘You should go first,’ he said immediately, the words out of his mouth before he could even think them through. Lo’s frown deepened.

‘I’m not your prince,’ he answered, harsher than intended, but his eyes had this pleading quality to them, like he physically needed to prove it to Will, that this wasn’t just because of he could, but because he wanted to. Will was already shaking his head as he made his way over. His toed brushed the leather tips of Lo’s boots. His fingers tipped Lo’s head, just so Will could duck down and whisper his next words into his ear.

‘You should go first, because I love you.’

The soft gasp he made did all kinds of things to Will’s heart, but more than that, the proximity had torn down what little restraint he’d recovered after the episode in the manor hallway. He dipped his head, lips bushing Lo’s ear, his jaw, his neck. Lo shivered beneath the touches. Will’s hands were soft, but firm as they settled on his waist, dipping to the hem of his pants and halted there. Lo’s breaths stilled against Will’s shoulder.

‘This is the part where you tell me to stop.’ He whispered with a tease, and the urge to smack him flirted through the haze of Lo’s mind. He tugged on the lacings, letting them pool undone in his hand. ‘Tell me if you want me to stop,’ he said, this time with all the seriousness in the world. Lo nodded into the curve of Will’s neck, and noticed the minute tension ease from his shoulders. Will kneeled, breath fanning Lo’s hipbone in a cruel echo of their earlier predicament as he deftly undid his boots. He pulled them off Lo’s feet too, before looking back up at his face, a hand playing with the undone laces hanging off the front of his pants, another soft question in his eyes.

‘Yes.’ Lo said this time, voice catching as Will’s fingers hooked his waist band and tugged them off. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath. Will cupped the back of Lo’s leg, behind the knee, to pull them off completely. Try as he might, his hands still trembled against Lo’s skin. The heat, the rapid flutter of his heartbeat, just below his ocean blue surface, had a dizzying effect. He stood, unsteady, fingers trailing against Lo’s thighs, gaze falling to the bathtub and its swirling waters. Lo’s fingers laced with his, naturally, as if they’d done it a thousand times over. ‘Together.’

The water was boiling, near painful against their skin, stinging against their cuts. Lo hissed softly, but stepped in nonetheless. Will followed after divesting his last item of clothing under Lo’s curious gaze, try as he might to hide it. Neither really register the size factor until they were both standing in the knee high water, the bath only a few feet long, and less so wide. They both stared down at the already pinking swirls of blood coming off their legs like scarlet smoke, amusement hanging in the air and on their lips. Will was the first to sit, placing himself against the curve of the metal tub, and tugged on their linked hands. Lo settled between his legs, his back to Will’s chest. He had to keep his knees above the surface, bent to accommodate the small basin. Will’s breath tickled the nape of Lo’s neck, but like this, not facing him, he could let his eyes flutter close to revel in the sensation.

They laid together for a long moment, simply enjoying the warmth, and the company. At some point, Lo had relaxed into Will, his head leaning back against his shoulders, as the other man’s arms had come up to wrap around him in a loose embrace. His fingers had brushed over the dried blood on Lo’s arms and shoulders, letting it flake off into the water at his touch, leaving clean geometric line in the wake of his fingers. The water had turned a cloudy grey-red color and had started to cool when Will found the strength to lift a hand out of the bath. The slosh of water against the metal wall stirred Lo who’d dozed off a bit against Will. He reached over, his hand searching the floor beyond for something. Lo blinked slowly at his actions, following the curve of his arm with the mild interest of someone who was never left out for long. When Will pulled his arm back into the bath, he was holding a small sliver of soap.

’The owner brought this and a few other things, while you were sleeping.’ He mentioned as he busied himself with lathering his hands. Lo watched, transfixed in his sleepy haze, the suds build between Will’s fingers. Once covered, he set to drawing epics against Lo’s shoulders with the bubbles. The touch registered a second later, and Lo half turned to look at the man. Will’s hands stilled. The bath wasn’t huge, and Lo had to pull his knees up against his chest to even turn far enough to catch a glimpse of Will. The water sloshed over the edge and spilled onto the wood, but neither seemed particularly bothered by it. Will had payed the woman more than enough to cover any damages. ‘What?’ He asked, blinking back at Lo’s wide open eyes. The man hadn’t looked that awake since they’d taken the Duke into custody.

He didn’t get an answer. Instead, Lo swooped in, and sealed their mouths together. The kiss was as searing as the bath had been when they’d first stepped in, almost painful. Will reflexively cupped Lo’s face, pulling him in closer, until he was kneeling between his legs, half out of the water as it sloshed up the sides and splattered onto the ground. His lips were insistent, incessantly so, claiming Will’s mouth with the audacity of of a royal, yet the fire of a desperate man. Will’s hands shifted to the back of his head, curling in the dark strands there, before running down his neck, splaying across his shoulder blades. He pressed him closer, until their chests were touching, warm water giving away to warmer skin, their bodies folding into each other in the tiny basin. Lo didn’t dim the intensity of the kiss until the need for oxygen became a matter of life or death. And even then, they only broke apart long enough to swallow a mouthfull before their mouths crashed together again. Lo’s hands had been hanging onto Will’s shoulders like a lifeline since the very first moment their lips had met, fingers digging almost painfully into the skin, leaving crescent moon dents under his nails. When they broke off again, he rested his head against his knuckles, his face turned into the crook of Will’s neck, catching his breath. Will’s glazed gaze focused on the slats of the window shutters, his mind otherwise occupied memorizing the curve of Lo’s naked shoulder.

‘What was that for?’ Asked Will, once his somatic skills returned to functioning capacity, breath fanning Lo’s cheek.

‘I love you,’ he replied simply. Will let that sink into the water with them, let it infuse and clean him of the blood and grime and scars that covered his skin, physical reminders of the heavy things he carried in his heart.

‘We should get out before it gets cold.’ Will kissed into Lo’s hair. The other hummed in agreement, but it was another long moment before either moved. The water was still and as frigid as the air by the time they untangled their limbs, brushed off the remainder of the dried blood like scarlet scales, and rose from the depths of the two foot-deep tub. The towels were rugged and raw against their open cuts, but nothing soothed the sting like the other’s lips. Will trailed his across the bruise on Lo’s cheekbone, and in thanks, Lo brushed his lips across Will’s abdomen. They kissed each other’s scrapes until the pain was nothing more than an excuse.

The towels were forgotten in favour of the bed and the comforts of mostly human contact. They laid together, Lo sprawled out under Will as the taller man coaxed soft sounds from the other’s lips. His mouth was warm and wet against Lo’s neck, sucking gently on the sensitive skin, fingers firm at his hip. Their legs were a tangled of limbs again, their natural default it seemed, but neither minded. Lo took great pleasure in the quiet retaliation digging his nails into Will’s shoulder got him. There was nothing sweeter than the nips Will seemed to consider revenge. The man left a trail of them, blossoming red marks, along Lo’s chest, down to his nipple, where he stopped for and inordinate about of time, swirling his tongue lazily around the hardened bud until Lo’s fingers found purchase in the man’s dark curls, tugging to unlatch him from his chest. Will chuckled against his skin, warm and dizzying, but yielding. He continued his descent, intoxicated by the softness of Lo’s skin, amazed by the man’s responsiveness to even the lightest of touches. He had to remind himself on multiple account to not rush things. They had all the time in the world, and he would make the most of it. Tomorrow, he decided, we an abstract enough concept to ignore in favour of finer things, such as the man beneath him.

Lo was hard by the time Will reached the crux of his thighs, and without hesitation, or an ounce of reserve, the man kissed the tip, his bottom lip left glistening. Lo propped himself up, just to stare at the sight the man made, lying between his legs, delight painted across his mouth by the lust swirling in Lo’s gold eyes, tongue darting out to lick his lip. The thrumming in his veins climbed in intensity and Lo sucked in a breath, which just a swiftly left him as Will took him in his mouth. The sensation sent Lo reeling, falling back against the pillow with a low moan which only spurred Will on. The man was as skilled with his tongue as he was with him sword, swirling it expertly along Lo’s shaft until he was left a panting, gasping mess. Lo’shand came to cover his mouth which he seemed unable to control under Will’s ministrations, but as soon as he did, Will lifted his head, lips wet, Lo’s length suddenly assaulted by the cold air in the room.

‘I want to hear you.’ Was all he said, but he needn’t say more. Lo’s hand fell back to the bedsheet which he promptly fisted . He wasn’t hard to convince in the state of disarray Will was carefully leading him to. The man in question returned to his previous activity with renewed enthusiasm, sucking with a hum that sent a spasmed of pleasure racing up Lo’s spine. The feeling was unlike anything Lo could have ever imagined, alone in his expansive bedchamber within the palace walls, alone with his carefully crafted collection of mental images of Will training shirtless in the lower courtyard. The images popped up unprompted behind his eyelids, bringing him dangerously close to a quivering mess. The tension coiled low in Lo’s navel, and he felt his climax approach inevitably.

‘Will…’ He choked out, hips bucking as the other’s cheeks hollowed before bobbing his head, taking him deeper even. Lo’s whole body convulsed against the bed, his back arching against the mattress. ‘Will stop.’ And no sooner had the words left his mouth did the man look up, mouth mercifully leaving Lo’s throbbing erection. His pupils were blown wide, arousal as clear as day in his expression, but concern clouded his caramel eyes. Lo reached for the hand Will still had on his thigh, tugging him back up to kiss away the frown marring his beautiful features. ‘I want…’ Lo swallowed thickly, blushing madly. The words were foreign on his tongue, even if he’d repeated them in his head a thousand times over in all the fantasies he’d made up of this moment. Nothing compared. ‘I want to come with you. I want you inside of me.’ He finished after a beat, his embarrassment evaporating as Will’s face broke out into a cheeky grin. He ducked down to capture Lo’s lips for a stolen, soft moment, then pushed off the bed, and crossed back towards the bathtub.

Lo watched him scour for a moment before he found what he was clearly looking for. Will returned to the bed, hand curled around a small vial and Lo mind stuttered to a full stop at the image that evoked. The though alone almost sent him over the edge, and he momentarily had to count back from ten in his head to regain a semblance of composure. Will was still smiling broadly at the foot of the bed, but Lo’s expression had crossed into a completely different mindset. Climbing to his hands and knees, he met Will by the edge of the bed, mouth level with the man’s own impressive erection.

The thirst in the half-lidded look Lo gave Will before taking him slowly into his mouth ought to have been illegal. It took all of Will’s self control not to trust his hips forward into the unparalleled softened of Lo’s mouth. The man was testing every limit Will had, and it was the thinnest of line running between torturous and heavenly. His hands lost themselves in Lo’s curls, as the man tested all the different things his tongue could make Will do. Swirling it around the tip seemed particularly effective and Will’s knees almost buckled by the third time he did it, bitting out a groan. Lo added a hand to the equation, curling his fingers around Will’s base, tightening with every stroke, and Will needed a distraction or he’d come faster than his fragile ego would allow.

Unscrewing the thin vial, Will let the cold oil pour over his palm. Coating two fingers, he let the rest trickle out of his hand and onto Lo’s ass. The man sucked in a breath at the cool and unexpected sensation and Will bit out a curse at what that did with his dick in the man’s mouth. His head fell back and he watched the stars dance across his eyelids, reminiscent of the man whose tongue was teasing his tip with the lazy self assurance of a practiced mistress. Give his the time, and Will would make one out of Lo yet. The man pulled back, whipping primly at his mouth, looking up questioningly through his eyelashes at the shattered expression Will wore, his own not far from it. Will engraved the vision in his mind.

‘Lie back,’ he instructed and Lo, for once, didn’t protest, scooting back to the head of the bed. Will climbed on, joining him, and hooking one of Lo’s legs over his shoulder, his hips lifting to rest on his thighs. Lo gripped the pillow tightly, his whole body wound tighter than he’d ever been during their many sparring matches. Will filed away the thought for later. Laughing at that moment would not have been his brightest idea, and he’d already expended his quota of inspired moments for the month. Still, seeing the man ready himself as if about to face the full court of the Mage Queens, Will ducked down and planted a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. ‘Relax love,’ he mouthed against Lo’s neck. He swirled nonsense with his free hand against Lo’s thigh, and felt the tension slowly slip from the man’s body, going lax in his practiced hands. ‘Gods you’re so beautiful’ he whispered against Lo’s ear before leaning back, enjoying the spectacle the blush creeping across the portait of lust his features painted.

His fingers found Lo’s entrance and pressed in, sending a shockwave of sensations racing up his spine like a shot of electricity. He sucked in a breath and pressed his head back into the pillow as Will started slowly stroking, easing the finger in and out, infinitesimally deeper with every stroke. Lo’s mind cleared to absolutely nothing except the vivid sensation of Will’s fingers inside him. His nerves were shot beyond repair, and every stroke came closer to indescribable. When Will added a second finger, Lo had to bite back a gasp as he felt himself spread to accommodate, the sensation so intense it splashed colors against the inside of Lo’s eyelids. His eyes fluttered back open as Will scissored his fingers, hitting a spot that sent a sent Lo arching over the bend again, hand scrambling for purchase in the sheets. His harried gaze fell to Will, and the sight of the man stroking himself while fingering him, eyes closed in a near pained expression, practically finished him then and there. Catching his gaze, Will bit his bottom lip and Lo could only respond with a moan as he lifted his hips to meet his hand.

Will pulled out his fingers and Lo whimpered at the loss, only for it to be replaced with the throbbing heat of his head against Lo’s entrance. The prospect alone tore another moan from his lips as Will lined himself up. He pushed in, just a little, and he was so much bigger than his fingers had been that Lo’s whole body clenched at the foreign sensation. Will eye snapped closed with a hiss and he fell forward onto his forearm, propped up just above Lo, his other hand still against Lo’s thigh.

‘You have to relax love,’ he chocked out, and Lo physically could not have if he tried, but Will pressed his lips to his, blissful and sweet, and his body uncoiled unconsciously. Will eased a bit deeper, his hips angling down and Lo groaned into the next kiss. Will stilled, however painful it seemed for him to do, but Lo’s hand rose to his hips, and guided him down, lower, deeper, until his hips pressed into the back of Lo’s thigh, and they both gasped as he bottomed out.

‘Fuck,’ Lo managed to articulate, eyelids fluttering wildly as he tried to wrap his mind around it. There was no way to do it. Every twitch, every inch, was so out of the leagues of the imaginable, Lo could do nothing more than lie back and let the sensations overcome in, wave by wave.

‘Yeah,’ Will chuckled against his neck, strained as he ground against Lo, eliciting low moans from the both of them. ‘If it hurts-‘

‘Will I swear to the gods if you don’t move I’m having you executed the second we get home.’ Lo breathe out, rapid fire against the overwhelming fullness.

‘On what charges?’ Shot back Will, teeth catching on Lo’s earlobe and bitting lightly. Will was already at his breaking point, using Lo’s virginity as an excuse to pause and gather himself. The man was so tight and hot it was maddening. His body was Will’s undoing, and there was no going back.

‘Contempt.’ Lo clenched around him and Will’s restraint snapped like a bow. He pulled back, breath rattling in his chest , and sheathed himself back into Lo in one swift motion, right back to the base. Blood roared in his hears, but Will still head the hiccup of a moan his thrust had elicited and it was like music to his ears. Another thrust, another gasp, and it dragged a groan from Will’s chest as Lo took him fully, completely, entirely. His hands tightened on Lo’s waist, his weight shifting as he moved to get impossibly closer, deeper. The pleasure that rocked him made his ears ring.

He picked up the pace, Lo’s hips lifting to meet him thrust for thrust, and soon they were lost in a frantic fuck, both out of their minds as their body came together again, and again. Will’s breathes were erratic, against Lo’s neck, lips, shoulder, chest heaving as he kept up the rapid pace. Lo was thumbing the edge of madness, angling his hips to have Will reach the deepest parts of him with every thrust, his name like a prayer on his lips, muttered over and over again as they joined in a mess of limbs and lives. They painted each other in sweat and kisses, skin like fire, nerves alive with every brush and stroke. The night, the room, even the scarce space between them, was forgotten in favour of frantic strings of intelligible words and the sweetest of unbecoming.

Lo had already been close, but Will’s unrestrained rhythm sent him right over. The climax that had been mounting in his navel reached its pinnacle, and something in Lo gave right out. Will’s name was on his lips as he came, thunderous wave after another, warm and wet on his chest. But Will kept going, indomitable, and ravenous, swallowing Lo’s every soft cry at the overstimulation, his whole body alit. It didn’t take long for him to join Lo, his hardness going impossibly rigid, impaling Lo with every stroke until his rhythm faltered and fell into jerking spasms, and he came deeply.

His arms gave out and he fell against Lo, their breaths and warmth and bodies mingling until they were one, exhausted, vaguely human mess. Will’s mouth was warm and moist and saying something against Lo’s neck, but his ears were still listening to his nerves sing the seemingly unending ripples of his orgasm. Everywhere Will touched was sensitive beyond reason, almost painful yet impossible to pass up.

‘Don’t move,’ finally registered as Will untangle himself. Lo shivered when Will pulled out, almost coming again in the soft ecstasy that coated his senses. The bed dipped, and Will left, only to come back a few moments later with a wet towel in hand. He cleaned Lo’s abdomen and thighs with meticulous care. Lo watched Will wrap his already hardening length in the cloth before throwing it aside and climbing back into bed, bringing the thick cotton blanket with him. He dropped it over their worn and weathered bodies, and Lo rolled into his waiting embrace, tucking his head under Will’s chin, mindful of his horns. His mind was nothing but a muddled awareness of Will, and it was the most wonderful of experiences. He made a contented hum, playing with stray strand of Lo’s hair. The man preened at the attention, coiling himself around Will like vine. His thigh rested across Will’s thigh, and an amusing quip about his sword flitted across Lo’s mind. His hand that had been resting on the man’s stomach drifted south, garnering a pained choke from Will who was already solid under his fingers.

‘Lo…’ Will groaned out, his own hand coming to catch his slender wrist under the covers.

‘Wilhelm?’ Countered Lo against the man’s clavicle, his tone light and airy, clearly unbothered by Will’s chiding tone, sucking lightly on the skin there, insatiable, desperate.

‘We should sleep,’ tried to argue the other. He shifted but Lo’s hand only tightened around Will, making the man jerk, his head falling back against the pillow with a breath, ’tomorrow-‘

‘Tomorrow, I’ll be a prince again, and you’ll be my captain.’ Lo cut in, his voice small, but the words ringing out in the still room like canon fire. Their effect was also comparable.

‘Lo…’ Will sighed, his embrace tightening around the other man, looking hard at the ceiling as if the answers were written in the wood.

‘It’s okay,’ Lo assured, kissing Will’s neck, his lips bushing the sensitive spot beneath his ear, ‘we have tonight.’

‘No,’ said Will, voice hard. He flipped them, pinning Lo to the bed beneath him, the blanket a tangled mess between them.Lo looked up at the man, bewilderment in his eyes, but Will’s expression was absolute. His dark eyes searched Lo’s golden pools, intent and unyielding, his voice carried the will and strength of an army, ‘No, Lo, we have the rest of our lives.’

Their lips met in the space where the words hung, a promise sealed with a kiss, imprinting itself on the soft flesh like an invisible and immutable mark.

It was still there after the second, and the third time they came together with cathartic pleasure, bodies trembling in the aftermath, lips meeting again and again in the darkness. It was still there when they woke in the late afternoon, tangled limbs and sheets, and dressed in spare clothes like new skins. It was still there when they greeted the reinforcements, and saw off the criminals with bitter content, sharing in the relief of being still alive, if a little less whole. It was still there as they rode for the Floating Isles, the space between then like an uncrossable chasm, duty heavy in their hearts and hands. It was still there when they were greeted to raucous applause, polite smiles like lies on their masks of expressions, eyes meeting across banquet halls and war rooms before falling away. It was still there when their lips met again behind closed doors, in the quiet corners of the castle, in tender embraces and softest secrets. It took many shapes: frowns that dipped low, tugging at the edges and at their resolve; pursed lips and scrunched noses, displeasure felt and worn like sickly syrup, but also teasing at times, paired with twinkling amusement; smirks when neither could keep their composure, pretending like all the world could live without them for a moment, and their covert stolen moments held all the subtlety in the universe; smiles, soft and spent, across mountains of pillows and valleys of sheets; but its nature was unchangeable. Promises like these were carried with a person forever, like an unseen scar upon their body and mind. A man could die, and you could still read the promise there, on his lips, and know he died smiling.


	45. May I have this dance?

Dear Will,

Darling, what is taking you so long! I requested your presence on this diplomatic mission under my name and emblem because I knew that the Lord of Edinborough was an old acquaintance of yours and therefore anticipated that your familiar face would lend us an advantage in the negotiations. I thought it a simple and straightforward task, and yet still you seem to be stalling for time. Is the city of Astur treating you so well that your forget the fiend who warms your bed at night? I should hope not for your sake...

…Well it seems your absence has left me more agitated than I had previously thought darling. I apologize if I seem a little irritated Wilhelm. Know that I don’t bare any contempt against you obviously. You are the last person I could be angry with and I’m sure you are doing the best you can under the circumstances, which I would appreciate clarifying if you don’t mind, if only to put my mind at peace on why such politics seem to be taking forever to conclude. And if you must know darling, the source of my disquietude lies in the fact that in little less than three days, the Full Moon Festivities will be commencing. As you undoubtedly know, with such festivities come a ball. A rather grand one at that, with all manners of royalty, nobility and gentry invited. I will _not_ be facing the political menagerie of two-faced judgmental harpies and slimy bureaucratic slugs without your arms around my waist, grounding me for the evening so I don’t try to launch myself into the stratosphere at the next comment about my horns or blue skin or apparent ineptitude at running a province of the Isles. And don’t worry darling, with you as my “bodyguard”, we can get away with as many lingering touches as our hearts desire...

Oh how you’ve corrupted me so Wilhelm! Ever since that night at the Duke’s, I… Well darling, to put it in the least simple way I can think of, you have rendered my entire existence to the sole purpose of amorously basking in your dazzling warmth. And these past few days without you have only rekindled the need I have for the incandescent infatuation you seem to light inside me whenever we are in the same room. Now look what you’ve done, turned me into some soppy poetry-writting love stricken idiot… I miss you. Embarrassingly so.

Therefore, I hereby order you to make haste with the negotiations with Lord Halstead, so that when the time comes, you can dip me under the full moon as the orchestra plays.

Lovingly,

Your Lo

P.S.: we might want to think up of a place where we can go and enjoy the evening without the prying eyes of hungry onlookers...


	46. The Briefest Delays

My dearest Lo,

I miss you too. I hear heel-clad feet on cobblestone and my heart races, even if my mind remembers the distance that separates us. Shadows against candlelight remind me of our evening trysts. I cannot watch dawn break without being reminded of your eyes as you watch me through your eyelashes from the pillow next to mine. Lo, I yearn for you as no man should, for this pain is not bearable by a mortal soul. The Gods must have granted me lenience, because I still live, and with every breath, miss you. Perhaps punishment would be more fitting then. Loving you is the sweetest torture.

I’ve sent along an official memo with a more delicately phrased version of the current negotiations, but to be frank, Lord Halstead is unwell. We do know each other, or rather, I knew his son. Fine lad, good man, fell at my side at the front. I attended his funeral while on leave, and there met his parents. The Lady was most kind, and died only recently, but the Lord hasn’t been quite the same since. He recounts battles from Isles history as if he’d been there, speaks to me as he would his son, calls one of the maids by his wife’s name. I was unaware he had degenerated so much since my last encounter, but clearly it is high time to move control over to his youngest son. As is, I’m negotiating on both fronts, and it is taking considerably more time than I had anticipated. The youngest is less adamant about the policy changes you are trying to pass than his brother would have been, not to mention how difficult seeing Lord Halstead treat me as he would a son, must be. You have my deepest apologies for the delays. I assure you I’ve seen nothing of note in Astur but the bottom of Lord Halstead’s finest whiskey on a night of tall tales and recollection, one which left me rather lonesome in bed, with a mind for the pretty painting you make after a night of debauchery. If anything, the province of Lathander must be keeping you more busy and entertained.

I assure you, my love, I would conquer cities and level empires to accompany you to the Full Moon ball. Nothing, not even a full squadron of Peninsula forces could keep me from your side on that night. Why, I’ve already spent so much time imagining how it shall undoubtedly end, I cannot let such planning go to waste. After all, my strategic skills cannot be for naught. Trust me, if anyone will make you see starts, it shall be me.

I heed your orders, exalted. You shall find me at your side in the briefest delays.

Yours, always,

Will

PS: It seems my strategic mind finds its only rival in yours, my sweet. I do believe the gardeners have planted a new wild flower section behind the fire pits. Perhaps that might satisfy?


	47. The Silly Notion of Love

Dearest Will,

Thank you darling for clearing up the cause of your tardiness. I am saddened to hear about Lord Halstead. He is a good man and deserves better than this prolonged bewildering march into the great beyond. I hope for his case that he will soon find peace and be reunited with his Lady dearest and his eldest.

As for his opinionated youngest son however, well, that will be a challenge I suppose. But don’t fret darling, I’ve already concocted a few tricks and schemes which might… sway his point of view to put it mildly. After all, the unwedded son of a Lord visiting whorehouses across Astur and bearing more bastards than the whole of the Peninsulas themselves is a terrible reputation for anyone to uphold. By the gods, if that information would become public knowledge… I can only fathom the consequences. No one wants a scandal like that ravaging the Isles. No, I’m certain this upstart youth will come around, whether he knows it yet or not.

Thank you for everything you’re doing darling. Your presence by my side and in my life has completely turned my world around, for the absolute better of course. I really don’t know where I would be if I hadn’t met you, if you hadn’t thrown me over your shoulder during that particular Hunt. Actually no, I do know: I’d be dead. Very very dead. So not only do you make life worth living, but you actually ensure that _my_ life is not unfortunately cut short, which would be the ultimate crime, for depriving this world of my gloriousness is truly the worst of offences. You are the charm to my prince, the knight to my shining armour, or shining jewelry I should say. Beloved, I cherish and worship you. You bring out something in me, someone unbefitting of my station as prince, for I would spend the rest of my days attending to you, to your every wishes and needs. I would relish dressing and undressing you, scrubbing you down in the baths, cooking your food and cleaning your clothes. I would revel in your orders and commands, telling me what to do and when. I would savour the vision of your return home and I in your bed, scantily clad and waiting patiently. You turn me into a blithering fool Will, and despite myself, I enjoy all of it. Every single embarrassing moment where the simple thought of you seems to clear my head of all other notions, leaving me unholy enraptured by you.

And once again, it seems my penmanship has been carried away by the silly notion of love. Perhaps I should contact a healer and see if there is a cure, some tincture or ointment that could help. But then, I’d rather succumb to this disease if it means spending the rest of my life with you.

I’m glad to know that you are making haste to return to Esgrove darling. The accoutrements I have selected for the Full Moon ball will surely pique your interest and perhaps more. Don’t worry. Some of my skin will be covered.

Your love brain-washed boyfriend,

Lo

P.S.: the wild flower gardens sound absolutely lovely darling. I knew you’d find the perfect place. Let us hope it will be private enough for us to share a dance.


	48. Mine, Alone

My daring Lo,

It seems you were quite right in terms of the Lord’s son. How on earth you attained such information is beyond me, though I would never doubt your skill or abilities, for the results are incontestable. The youth turned like clockwork, marched to my room and professed his undying loyalty to your name where mere hours ago his mouth was full only of discord. You are a magician, Lo. More than that, you bewitch everything you touch, and I am no exception.

I could bathe in your words, let them seep into my skin and reside in my heart, and still I would be famished for you. There is an insatiable hunger in for the taste of your lips, and I am a man gone mad simply at the memory of such a delicacy. Lo, I refuse to think of any alternative ending to our story, any ‘what-if’s and conjecture. I would relive the Hunt a hundred times and never change the outcome, because it led me to you. Even my years on the Front, the injury and death I faced, pales in comparison to having found you. You are worth every scar on my body, every tender muscle and nightmare. As long as I can see your face next to mine when I wake from those memories, they will have no grip on me.

You say you would be dead without me, but I would be lost without you.

Let the notion carry you, Lo, for your words only pull me closer and closer until I can have you in my arms again. I write this hastily just as we depart. If we ride hard, I can make it back by dusk the night of of the ball. Know I would never let you step alone into the lion’s den. Moreover, I would never let anyone else’s eyes fall onto you on such a night before mine. The sight you will make, I take as mine alone. Let the others starve for a glimpse, while I gorge on your beauty, and still, be left thirsting for more.

Your most devoted (bed-)servant,

Will

PS: I do believe after the state your last letter left me in, I might behead anyone who interrupts us. 


	49. The Strength of a Man

The strength of a man should not be determined by the number of battles he has won. Neither should it depend on the girth of his shoulders. The strength of a man shouldn’t rely on the size of his command, or the tenor of his voice. It should have nothing to do with the depth of his glass, or the weight of his sword. The strength of a man should not be a measure of his physical prowess. In fact, if Will was to define it exactly, the strength of a man should be measured by one’s ability to stand perfectly still and watch, from across the room, the love of your life flirt with another, and not flinch. True strength, was the ability to school your features and not betrays the turmoil beneath.

‘Will, you okay? You look like you’re about to throw up,’ asked Fidel, standing at his shoulder in full Naeve colors. The orange clashed terribly with his skin tone, but only so much could be done about decades of tradition. Not to mention, Will was supposed to also be decked out in full regalia and had only avoided the rules thanks to a royal edict from the very cause of his current unrest.

‘Fine,’ he muttered into his cup of wine, another thing to be thankful for. Had he been present in full capacity, the delectable numbing would have been off limits. At this point in the evening, the only thing keeping him firmly planted on the other end of the dance floor and not detaching the limbs from every stray hand who brushed against his secret paramore was the warmth in the pit of his gut, right next to the small-scale glacier which had been residing there since his late arrival.

They’d ridden hard, him and his three men army, from the small - but strategically paramount - county, right until dusk. The sun had set just as they’d arrived in the lower court, Will nothing more than a flurry of orders and robes. He’d packed his formal attire, well aware he might be cutting it close for his arrival. Thankfully, the kitchen maids were kind women who knew him and his avid adoration for their confections, and had let his slip through, changing in the pantry, and sliding in unseen amongst the guests with the waiters. Just in time, because the moment he’d step foot into the castle’s most richly decked out ball room, they announced the arrival of the crown prince, and Will realized he’d left his ability to breath with his neck tie, somewhere in his saddle bags.

Lo arrived with all the drama and extravagance Will had come to associate with even the slightest of twitches from the tiefling. The man slid into bed with the grace of a dancer. The man shimmied out of clothes like a practicing artists of devesting. The man came with a shudder that would bring a nation to it’s knees. Hell, Will had been close to dropping onto the hard marble floors when he appeared at the top of the staircase, all glitter and gold, holding the attention of the crowd like a leash Will would let him tie around his neck any day. His face alone could arrest Will’s heart, and only the sight of his cocky smirk, fang peaking from between his gold painted lips, could return him to life. Decked in the finest jewelry, set against the canvas of deep blue of his skin, Lo shivered like a night sky smattered with stars. Will couldn’t stop at his face, not if he tried. Not if he was ordered to. His eyes could only dip lower, to the slope of his neck, the dip between his clavicles where an almost proper neck tie was placed. The top half of his ensemble could have passed for appropriate if not the sheer sex appeal the man exuded with every step. The angle of his shoulders, straightened by the jacket, held the order to start a war. And Will would be the first to lay down his life, if only for a taste of such a sweet victory. But it didn’t end there. With Lo, there was always more, always overwhelmingly so. It kept going, in droves, in waves, like a tide continually rising until you are entirely submerged, and Will drowned a smilling, happy man. Overcome, was the sweetest of states, and Will lived in perpetual gasping over expenditure. The lapels of the straight jacket dove down to his waist where they met and promptly ended, leaving his tapered waist coated in only the thinest layer of gauzy gold fabric. The skirt hugged Lo’s hips, and flared out into a large pooling train. A singular slit in the front of the skirt rose up the his mid-thigh, displaying a long length of flesh Will was all to familiar with, and had the immediate effect to tighten the poor captain’s trousers considerably. As a final blow to Will’s already non-existing restraint, the prince had finished off the ensemble with a pair of golden heels with interlocking straps that wrapped around his ankles in a way Will really wished his fingers were at that moment.

Lo’s eyes had found him in the crowd, and Will salvaged a semi-professional nod, though a completely smitten smile might have smuggled it’s way onto his face as well. However, it was all to well rewarded by the slipping of Lo’s usually diplomatic mask, and the appearance of his own equally pleased expression. It was nothing but a moment, but the eye contact had sustained Will throughout the rest of the evening. In somewhat professional capacity, he was still only present at Lo’s request, one which had already been somewhat questioned. To follow him like a shadow all evening would have been suspicious. To stare at him all evening form a carefully chosen corner near the kitchen doors (the waiters were always bringing in fresh champaign flutes for Will to have his pick from), was clearly stated as part of his duties as his guard captain. Of course, the rest of the Naeve surrounding the ball room were technically there in such capacity, but it wasn’t as if Will would have been able to occupy himself otherwise. The Queens were entertaining, and the degree of snobbery the evening had incited was so far above that which he usually encountered in the daily court meetings that he was afraid of causing a national scandal by simply inviting someone to dance. Not to mention, no one came even close to rivalling Lo.

The man swept across the dance floor, changing partners every song, consolidating treaties and peace agreements with every waltz. He never tripped, never hesitated. This was his domain, and he was so clearly in his element that even the Queens seemed appreciable. Will had seen the prince gain a laugh from the Queen of Liira not a few moments before introducing her to the master of the Lathander’s province best silk house, and disappearing sometime around the mention of import taxes, only to reappear on the arm of his mother to disentangle her from a compromising conversation with a high noble from Eldath. He was a flurry of words and complacent smiles, and the next moment, a cunning cogitator, only to done his diplomat hat as the occasions arose and fell. Watching him was alone both dizzying and mesmerizing, and Will could have done it all evening. Of course, he could have done without the occasional flirtatious touches the man was known to employ to mollify the more stringent of guests. Will’s hand kept closing around the missing sword pommel at his hip.

’No, wait, I know that expression,’ cut in Gasbrough from his left, ‘that’s his murder face.’

‘I don’t have a murder face,’ muttered Will, grabbing another flute from a passing waiter.

‘Au contraire, my brother. You have a murder face, and it is blatant at day. And I think the Lord of Durnmor has noticed. So unless you want to incite a political crisis, I’d suggest dropping the daggers from your eyes,’ advised the Naeve.

‘Yeah well as long as he keeps his fucking hands off the prince’s waist I won’t need to start one.’

‘Jealousy, my friend, is not a pretty color on you,’ pointed out Fidel. Will eyed the man’s sword thoughtfully.

‘Sod off,’ he muttered instead, taking a long swing from the bubbly elixir and once again training his gaze to the fateful pair and the Lord’s lingering touches.

‘And let you sulk here all on your lonesome? Why, we wouldn’t be very good friends if we did that, now would we?’ intoned Gasbrough.

‘Absolutely. It’s part of the code,’ followed through Fidel. Will had the fleeting thought they might not only be trying to distract him, but also preparing to restrain him should the situation arose. Boxing him in on either side, the bastards were coordinated.

‘There’s a code now?’ he gave an inch, and watched both of them ease back with a huff of a laugh.

‘Of course,’ exclaimed Gasbrough, hands fisted on his hips, ‘What’s rule one again, Fidel?’

‘Brother’s in arms before Prince in beds? Though I distinctly remember it rhyming.’

‘Knights before heirs?’

‘Cavalry before royalty?’

‘That’s the one!’

‘You should both change vocations. Court jesters would befit you much better than Naeve.’ Will finished off his glass and handed it to the nearest waiter.

‘Hilarious - Hey! Where are you going?’ Fidel called after him, but Will was already out of arm’s reach.

‘To save a damsel in distress.’

One look, that’s all it took. Will had been eyeing the tensing of Lo’s shoulders like a hawk watching prey. The minute change in his facial features, the mask which dropped across his eyes, Will had been watching all of it. It hadn’t been the first time this evening the Prince had had to put a sterner end to his negotiations. On more than one occasions Will had been left smoaking out his corner of the ball room from the sheer fury that rolled off of him in waves. But, and as hard as it was for Will to constantly remind himself, Lo was a capable young man, especially in matters of the court. Never had he wavered, or even hesitated. His stance would harden, his tone clip, and he’d establish a clear boundary with his adversary that would put an end to any lingering touches without interfering with whatever political debacle he was entangled in. It was an art, one which Will would never learn even the basic tenets of even if he had a lifetime locked away in a library to do so. Will had exactly one knife tucked into his boot, a small switchblade strapped to his thigh, and all of one fuck to give. He’d been waiting all evening for the chance. All it took was one look from Lo, and Will was stalking across the ballroom with the fires of hell on his heels.

The Lord of Dunmor did not so much see Will approach as feel him. The dancers parted like the sea in his wake, the man advancing with all the promise of a thunderstorm. The man’s eyes flickered up to the advancing captain and all the blood immediately leached from his features, his hand freezing where it had been teasing the slit of Lo’s gown. Lo barely contained his pleased smirk.

‘Ahh, Wilhelm, perfect timing,’ the men shared a look, and Lo motioned to the Lord standing far too close for comfort, ‘I do believe you know the Lord of Durnmor?’

‘We haven’t had the pleasure,’ ground out the captain, taking a step squarely in front of the prince and sticking out a hand under the thinest of pretences. If the ice in his glare hadn’t been warning enough, the bruising grip he held on the Lord’s hand surely set aside any doubt in the Lord’s mind that the exchange he’d been entertaining with the heir was squarely off the table.

‘Excuse me,’ the man muttered meekly, pushing his spindly glasses back up on his nose and avoiding direct eye contact. He scuttled away into the crowd and was quickly absorbed into the fray. Will watched him go, only pleased once he disappeared into the throng. A hand on his arm pulled him back to the present moment.

‘Thank you, darling, you’ve proven quite useful after all,’ Lo smiled thinly. Will scanned him quickly, more out of habit than actual concern. Had the Lord even kissed the prince’s hand a tad too hard Will would have had his head.

‘What did he want?’ managed to ground out the captain, his jaw still tense from being clamped shut all evening.

‘Oh, the usual,’ waved Lo, ‘lower taxes, pliant laws, a blowjob in the closet available closet…’

‘You’re kidding,’ frowned Will, hand flexing in the empty space were his sword usually resided. He felt distinctly naked without it.

‘I wish I was,’ sighed the prince, scanning the crowd for the next target on his never ending list of social calls and political agendas. ‘You should have another drink, you stand out standing so tense love.’

‘Don’t get handsy with strangers and I’ll relax,’ quipped Will bitterly, and Lo’s eyes flashed from the crowd to the man.

‘Wilhelm, darling, you know I can’t do that. It’s part of the job-‘

’To blow the Lord of Durnmor?’

‘To woe, Wilhelm. To woe. I believe you’re very familiar with the term, because if memory serves right you quite enjoyed the part where I wooed you.’ Answered the prince levelly. Gold met amber and their gaze clashed with enough electricity to garner a few looks from passing dancers. Will looked away first, casting his eyes out across the ballroom, to where Fidel and Gasbrough were keeping a close watch on him, lest he rampage and suddenly murder someone. The Lord of Durnmor, to pick a quick example.

‘I hate this,’ he admitted, too low for anyone else to hear. He watched Lo’s shoulder slump factionally. The prince looked out into the crowd of dancer, his hand accidentally brushing the captain’s as he turned. To anyone looking, it was nothing but a skimming of fingers, unintentional. Will knew Lo was too calculated a man for such a slip. He relished the passing warmth, the momentary touch.

‘I know,’ whispered Lo. ‘But it’s just a few more hours. Then-‘

‘The gardens,’ finished Will, hanging onto the words like a lifeline. He could feel Lo’s eyes on his face and tried to find the strength he’d been missing earlier. A strength which had eluded him most of his life.

’Yes. The wildflowers.’

‘I remember,’ said Will. Someone called Lo from the edge of the dance floor, and both men looked to the person in question, a current advisor to the Queen carrying a strained smile and a conversation with someone Will recognized as a military general with a reputation for being particularly unyielding. Lo fixed a smile onto his lips.

‘Looks like you’re needed,’ sighed Will, not without bitterness.

‘I’m always needed,’ replied Lo, just as sweetly. He stepped away, but hesitated, looking back at the last minute. ‘It won’t always be like this,’ he whispered lowly. Some promises wouldn’t be said too loud. Will jerked his chin to the advisor.

‘Go,’ he said, ‘save your advisor. I’ll be waiting once you’re done.’

‘In the garden.’

‘By the wildflowers.’

The evening dragged on forth both parties, though neither would admit to it. The captain resumed his post amongst his men, his cup never empty as he continued to track the prince’s movement throughout the night. No one else attempted so much as an accidental touch, and Will was relegated to fielding Fidel and Gasbrough’s attempts at a distraction until the clock hit midnight. The prince, meanwhile, tried to the best of his ability to retain his composure, but every anodyne anecdote, every fake compliment, every sly comment, slowly chipped away at his facade. Not to mention, Will’s words rolled around the back of his skull as if on a loop, only serving to distract him further from the social complexities of the evening. By the time the clock rung the evening out, he was about ready to stop into a chaise and sleep until the new year. Of course, his night was not nearly done, but at least the next part was marginally more pleasant.

The crowds slowly thinned, the Queens excusing themselves first, and quickly followed by the faltering guests. Lo stayed behind for the most part, entertaining light conversation with the stragglers until even they retired. And then, and only then, he dismissed the guards. The Naeve filled out behind the guests and Fidel and Gasbrough sent Will one last look before disappearing into the castle’s winding corridors. The musicians were still packing up, and maids were clearing the chairs and tables from the ballroom, apparently impervious to the late hour. Lo turned to Will and, from a respectable distance, loudly dismissed him for the evening, mentioning returning to his chambers to any curious ear. Will bowed and excused himself, leaving the royal alone with the servants.

He walked the castle halls for a few minutes before doubling back, slipping into the kitchen to collect the food he’d had a kitchen maid set aside for him earlier, and slipped out into the gardens through the servant’s entrance. Will never truly figured out how Lo managed to walked in and out of the castle without alerting half the guard, seeing as the servant’s secret and discrete entrances were not exactly at his disposal. Surely, being royalty has it’s own perks Will had yet to see.

The captain traipsed around a bit, cutting corners and listening for footsteps behind him, but was blessedly alone. He leisurely walked around the rows of charmingly placed flowers, a testament to the gardener’s skills, before ducking into the small wildflower sanctuary which had recently been erected. The gardens had asked to refurbish an old gazebo, and, having received the royal stamp of approval, had decked it fully in climbing vines and tall whispy flowers and grass. The entire area looked pulled right out of the fae realm. Will stepped inside, and found the prince already waiting for him, a blanket spread out on the ground, a bottle of wine in hand.

‘Hey,’ whispered the prince. He’d taken off the retraining suit top, leaving him in the billowing sleeves of the original dress, the neckline of which dipped low enough for Will’s mind to momentarily short circuit and forget how to respond.

‘You look beautiful,’ was what came out instead of a normal greeting, but the pinking of the prince’s cheeks seemed worth the mistep.

‘Darling, you flatter me,’ Lo laughed lazily, but Will could tell the man was flustered. He couldn’t hid the flush along his chest and neck, shifting the indigo skin to a deep violet.

‘I’m sure you’ve gotten better compliments than mine this evening,’ he answered, setting down the food and folding his large body into the small space. Their shoulders brushed, and Lo let his head fall to Will’s shoulder, heavy still with the swirling events of the night.

‘It’s not the same,’ mumbled the royal.

‘You’re tired,’ pointed out Will, ‘we don’t have to stay out.’ He whispered the words into the crown of Lo’s head, pressing a kiss into the space between his horns.

‘Just a bit, I’ve missed you all evening,’ answered Lo, pressing closer until his face was tucked into the crook of Will’s neck.

‘I was right there the whole time,’ protested the captain weakly. The fact of the matter weighed on them both heavily, but neither put it into words. It was easier to handle if it remained unsaid.

‘I missed touching you,’ and to support his argument, Lo lazily dragged his fingertips across the open neckline of Will’s shirt. ‘You forgot your necktie.’

‘It’s in my saddle bags, I didn’t have time to go back for it.’

‘Hmm… Well I like it like this, you look rugged.’

‘I’m sure the Queens approved.’

‘The Queens can…’ Lo stopped himself, and Will could feel him bite his lip against the skin of his throat. ‘No, you’re right they didn’t.’

‘They mentioned it?’ Will looked down, surprised. He was stalled in his endeavour by Lo’s head tucked under his chin, but the prince slowly extracted himself from their embrace, sitting up with his back to the captain, shoulder uncharacteristically slumped.

‘Eldath asked as to your presence. Lathander didn’t exactly support my decision,’ he whispered, but it still seemed overloud in the small private space. Here, between the wildflowers, there was nothing but their words. Just words, and warm bodies.

‘Eldath has always had it out for you.’

‘It didn’t help that you looked ready to eviscerate everyone who came near me all evening,’ pointed out the prince.

‘For the last time, I do not have a murder face…’

‘Wilhelm,’ Lo turned, pinned him with a look, ‘you practically cost me a trade deal with Durnmor.’

‘He had his hands all over you,’ argued Will, frowning at Lo’s line of thought.

‘And I’m pretty sure you sprained his wrist with that death grip of yours.’

‘What was I supposed to do? Not intervene?’

‘No, no,’ he conceded, his tone too diplomatic for Will’s liking, ‘that was astute, and I deeply appreciated it, but you can’t go in sword drawn every time someone looks at me funny or, god forbid, touches me in a way you don’t like.’

‘Lo, he had his hand up your dress.’

‘He also holds dominion over the spice trade.’

‘That doesn’t give him the right.’ Roughly put in the captain.

‘It’s court. That’s the game we play.’ Answered the prince instead, resigned.

‘Well it’s a stupid game,’ huffed Will, crossing his arms, and wishing for his sword for the umpteenth time that evening, if only for it’s grounding weight. He always thought better with a weapon in hand.

‘Darling if you don’t get your jealousy under control, I won’t be able to defend your presence at these events anymore.’

‘Jealousy? Lo-‘ the prince stopped him short from an argument both knew would have been hollow.

‘You need learn to hid your emotions,’ said Lo, then added, ‘or share.’

‘I’m not a child.’

‘Then stop acting like one.’

‘I’m sorry, that was unfair.’ Lo broke the silence that had fallen. Will looked up from his clenched hands, to Lo’s face, to the remorse cradled between his eyebrows. Silently, the captain reached out a hand, and Lo folded himself back into the larger man’s embrace, tucking himself into his side where he tended to fit just perfectly. They stayed like that for a long moment, just breathing in each other’s presence, a more dizzying elixir than any champain served that evening.

‘I brought wine,’ muttered Lo after a while. Will’s gaze swung to the bottle over the prince’s head.

‘Yeah, how did you manage that?’

‘A prince had his ways,’ answered Lo, reaching lazily for the bottle and handing it to Will to pop. The captain circled his arms around the tiefling and wrestled the cork from the bottleneck. He propped it on the prince’s lap and watched through nodded eyes the man take a swing, gold staining the glass, wine staining his lips.

‘Have I told you you’re mesmerizing?’ Whispered Will, watching the prince blush furiously at his words.

‘Not in so many words,’ he covered quickly, taking another swing.

‘My mistake then.’

‘You should correct it.’

‘I intend to.’

‘Good.’

Silent blanketed the two again, leaving them to wordlessly pass the bottle until a good amount had been drunk. Then, Lo extracted himself from their tangle of limbs to fetch the food, and nibbled mindlessly as Will ran his fingers through his curls absentmindedly. The hour was inconsequential at that point, though dawn weighed heavily on both their minds. Their secret escapades were only reserved for the cover of dark, and they still had to make their way back to their respective rooms in short order. Will said as much. Lo twisted his head to placed a kiss on the inside of Will’s thigh, which he’d been using as a pillow.

‘Lo,’ he warned lowly, but the man wouldn’t be stopped by so much, trailing the soft presses of his lips along the length of the captain’s inseam. Will’s own legs, which had been stretched out and crossed at the heel, speed mindlessly to allow Lo access as he desired.

‘We need to head back,’ Will breathed out amidst a groan as one of Lo’s hands followed his mouth, the man twisting in his lamp until he was spread out like a pool of molten gold between his legs. Matching eyes flashes to Will’s face as the prince reached the crux of Will’s thighs and palmed softly at the significant bulge there.

‘Or not,’ Will groaned out, fishing a handful of Lo’s hair until his fingers were tangled in the back of the man’s head. He raised Lo’s head to his until the man was drapped across his chest, and their lips met in the softest of unravellings. There had been great cacophony in their months of relationship. There had been explosive embraces, and languid kisses. There had been sweet moment and start stuck touches. But this moment, out of all of them, would be the one Will would think of when things would start falling apart. Perhaps because it was the last one. Or maybe, because painted gold and settled between his knees, Lo had finally finished taking off all his masks. One after another, throughout the evening, throughout their relationship. The diplomat, the negotiator, the prince, Will had started to think the man was masks all the way down. Until that moment, when from parted lips, they breathed each other in, and the softest of gasps left the prince’s, as if a hiccup of shock, from something finally giving. He’d looked up at Will then, eyes like gold spun dawns and smiled just a little. That simple quirck of the corners of his mouth, and Will was undone, a thousand times over. ‘Lo,’ he hummed against the man’s golden lips. The prince started undoing the ties of Will’s pants in answer. ‘Lo, Lo, Lo…’

‘What was it again?’ Lo asked against Will’s neck as he worked his way down, across his clavicle, gracing every uncovered inch of skin with his tongue. Will undid the button of his shirt, pushing the edges aside to give him more space to work with. The prince covered one of his nipples with his mouth and the sudden heat edged a moan from the man.

‘W-what?’ He managed to ask through the mounting haze of lust. Lo unlatched from his nipples, dipping lower, dropping kisses along his navel, sucking at the crest of his hip until the skin turned red.

‘Slowly?’ The prince answered, tugging the ties of Will’s slacks away entirely, watching the folds burst open, unleashing Will’s hardened member. Lo tugged the folds further, until he had full access to the base, where he wrapped his long fingers tightly, in the way he knew Will liked. ‘Reverently?’ He gave one slow pump which illicit a low growl from the man who fisted his hand in Lo’s hair. The prince dipped his head, and against Will’s tip, golden lips glistening with his precum, whispered ‘entirely,’ and took him into his mouth.

Will’s head fell back and smacked against the gazebo wall as Lo inched his way down his cock. In all the months since that first fateful encounter in the tavern in the Outer Lands, Lo had taken to making up for lost time. In closets. In stables. In studies. The man was already gifted with keen incite and could detect minute changes in his adversaries moods based on the position of their hands, and this skill applied itself all to well to sucking off his captain. The prince had collected a careful catalogue of Willl’s reactions, his twitches, his moans. He’d taken a peculiar liking to edging the man, right to end of his rope, then back, and there again. Lo’s control of his mouth was unparalleled and he made entirely unfair use of it at any given moment. Such as, on the floor of gazebos in wildflower gardens, exhausted and wine-warmed.

‘Lo,’ groaned Will, his hand tightening on the prince’s locks as the man bobbed his head, dragging his tongue along the back of Will’s shaft. He twirled his tongue along the tippled before diving back down, taking him halfway, then all the way to the base. Finding out tieflings naturally lacked a gag reflex had been a welcome discovery indeed. Lo sucked hard on the tip. ‘Fuck.’

‘Later,’ Lo whispered, working his jaw which was still sore from an evening of tight polite smiles. Will cupped his cheek, frowning sweetly against the lust swirling in his irises.

‘You dont-‘

‘I want to,’ cut in the prince, something like remorse in his eyes, something like an apology on his lips.

‘Lo…’

‘Please?’ he whispered, lips glistening in the faint moonlight streaming in through the frosted windows. The prince was never one to beg, but he had never been a prince to Will. ‘Let me?’

Will nodded mutely, and Lo dipped his head again, taking Will all the way. The captain’s thighs flexed around Lo’s head, his hands fisting in his deep indigo curls. The prince bobbed and sucked, swirling his tongue along the head until Will was a shuddering mess in his mouth. Then, he wrapped a tight grip around Will’s base and lazily licked the tipped, eyelashes fanning his cheeks as he looked up through half-lidded eyes to his captain moaning out broken versions of his names, over and over. Once a minimum of composure had been regained by the man, Lo wrapped his lips around the head, and hollowed his cheeks, peaking at Will’s shattered expression through his lashes. The man’s cock hardened impossibly in his hand, and Lo again moved off, blowing softly on the reddened head. Will mumbled something nonsensical.

‘What was that?’ Lo asked as he dipped to mouth the underside of Will’s shaft.

‘You’re a fucking tease,’ he gritted out, hands flexing in the prince’s hair, tugging at the roots in a welcome pain.

‘What do you want?’ huskily asked the prince, lifting his head from Will’s thighs to suck again at the mark he’d made on his hip.

‘I want to finish,’ breathed the captain heavily, one hand dropping from Lo’s hair to his face, cupping his jaw and running his thumb across his cheek, ‘but you won’t let me.’ Lo’s eyes flashed dangerously.

‘Make me,’ he mumbled against Will’s hip.

‘What?’

‘Make me,’ he repeated, louder, eyes meeting his captain’s confused gaze. Will’s second hand dropped from Lo’s hair to his shoulder, pushing the prince back until he was an arm’s length away. Lo frowned at the distance, at Will’s cock which still lay erect against his undone pants.

‘Lo,’ he called, and the prince’s eyes jumped to the captain’s concerned face, ‘is this you trying to make up for tonight?’ The prince looked away, but Will caught his chin and forced his gaze back to his. ‘Are you trying to make me… punish you?’

‘No, that’s not…’ started the prince.

‘Lo.’ Interrupted the captain sternly, his grip on his chin shifting until he was cupping the smaller man’s cheek. Lo nuzzled his palm, using it as an excuse to look away from Will’s penetrating gaze.

‘I don’t know. Maybe…’ he whispered brokenly against the man’s palm. He couldn’t look at Will, with his earnest eyes and open expression, with his strong shoulders and sword calloused hands. Will, who’d watched out for him all evening, only there because Lo had requested his presence. Hated every second of it, yet still loved him. ‘I’m sorry.’

Will tugged him until Lo was laying across his chest, head tucked until his chin, and wrapped his arms tightly around the tiefling. ‘We don’t apologize to each other, remember?’ He said, and the words hung around them, amongst the wildflowers and moonlight. Lo nodded into his chest, careful of his horns. The silence stretched out, coating his words, weighing them down until they sunk and flattened along the gazebo floor. Neither moved for a long time, then Will shifted, letting his head fall against the wall again with a dull thunk.

‘If you’re into that, then we can talk about it,’ he offered, giving Lo’s shoulder a squeeze, ‘but I don’t know with how comfortable I’d be with slapping you around…’ Lo let out a soft chuckle, lifting his head to square Will with a cocked eyebrow and smirk.

‘I don’t think you could hurt me if you tried.’

‘But I could try,’ pointed out the captain, with a faint smirk. His eyes held a warmth Lo didn’t feel he deserved. ‘I just don’t want you using sex as if it’s owed, or like a bargaining chip. As if I… As if I’ll stop loving you if you stop.’ He hesitated, then stared right through Lo with a pin point accuracy worthy of his rank. ‘I’m not one of your courtiers that you have to flirt with to get what you want, Lo.’

‘Will…’

‘I love you. Not just because you’re an absolute bombshell,’ he softened at Lo’s watery chuckle. ‘I just… Love you. For you. Okay?’ He cupped Lo’s face, looked for confirmation in his eyes, gold makeup smeared where a few tears had escaped. Lo nodded, smiling against Will’s palm.

‘Okay.’ Will pulled him in, and they time their lips sealed together with an untold promise. It was short and sweet, and when Lo pulled back, he took Will’s hand and place it in his hair.

‘Here,’ he said, eyes coy and shining still, ‘tighter.’ Will’s hand closed reflexively, pulling at his roots. Lo let out an appreciative hiss that brought a small smile to Will’s lips. ‘The other one too,’ he added, and Will complied, cautious, but willing. Lo settled between his thighs again, one hand wrapping around Will’s softened member. A few strokes, and it was back to erect. Lo looked up through his eyelashes, found Will already bitting back a moan. ‘You set the pace.’

‘If it’s too much?’ asked back Will, concern shining through the lust in his dark brown irises. Lo swallowed a smile.

‘I’ll tap out, like at practice.’ Offered Lo, and Will nodded. Lo dipped his head, letting Will’s cock slide between his lips. He bobbed his head a few times, just to get a rhythm going, sucking lightly on the way up. Will’s hands flexed in his hair, tugged a little to drag Lo further down his shaft and Lo hummed encouragingly. Will pulled harder, keeping Lo at the base for longer before letting him bob back up. After a few more strokes, he seemed to gain confidence, increasing the pace. Lo followed, yielding to Will’s commanding grip on his hair, all too happy to give into him. He felt Will harden further, and added a quick swipe of his tongue to his stroke, knowing it would drive the man mad.

‘Fuck, Lo,’ moaned Will, pulling Lo into yet a quicker stroke. Lo moaned around Will’s cock, feeling it twitchy against his tongue. Will’s fists tightened impossibly in his hair, dragging him down lower. Will’s hips bucked up against Lo’s face, and the captain held the prince there, his cock buried into his royal mouth. Lo almost tapped out, his jaw aching, his air supply dwindling, but Will dragged him back up, off his cock and higher still until they were level and Will could slot his mouth against Lo’s in a mess of wet open mouth kisses. Lo yielded to his control, taking as much as Will would give. Taking his fill, Will tugged Lo away, pining him with the gaze of a man on the edge of oblivion.

‘Was that okay?’ Asked Lo, eyes half-lidded and delirious on Will’s touch.

‘You’re perfect.’ He answered, pulling him again into a frenzied kiss. ‘I want to finish in your mouth.’

‘Fuck, yes,’ gasped Lo, obediently dropping back to Will’s dick at the slightest tug. He took him deeply, all at once, eliciting a hiss from the man, his hips twitching. Lo sucked hard and Will’s hips jerked fully, his control slipping, his hands pulling hard at Lo’s hair with renewed abandon. The prince complied to every minute twitch in Will’s grip, to his quickening pace, to his pistoning hips that buried him deeper in Lo’s mouth with every stroke. His grip was iron on Lo, and the prince nothing but pliant, letting his captain fuck his face until he felt his cock harden impossibly. Will pulled Lo’s mouth flush with his base, holding him there as he came with a swear and slurred version of his name. Lo sucked and swallowed, feeling his throat constrict around the twitching length of Will’s cock until it softened. Only then, once Will’s grip turned limp in his hair, did Lo pull away, licking Will clean as he went.

The prince sat back on his heels, and observed his sated captain with an appraising glance. His dark eyes fluttered shut as Will caught his breath. His shirt and pants were pulled open, undone, lying a mess around his marked body, red bites covering his torso and hip. A ring of gold marked the base of his cock where Lo’s lipstick had transferred.

‘You’re beautiful,’ Will mumbled through his post-orgasmic haze, and Lo blushed despite himself.

‘And you’re done for the evening I think,’ chuckled the prince, thumbing the remaining wetness from his chin and mouth. Will reached for him.

‘Just give me fifteen,’ he bartered. Lo laughed softy.

‘I’ll write you up a tab, you can pay it back tomorrow’ he answered instead. Will seemed to consider it a moment, then let his head drop against the wall, exhaustion pulling at his whole frame.

‘Fair. That’s fair.’

The hallways were empty as they made their way back to their rooms. Will insisted on walking Lo back, in case of unspecified dangers, and such, and Lo yielded to Will’s superior strategic mind. The man was his captain for a reason, listening to his counsel was only smart. They padded along dimly lit corridors, and up endless flights of stairs, their fingers brushing absentmindedly. They’d been halted in their progression to Lo’s quarter twice by small secret alcove which they simply couldn’t pass without making proper use of. The architecture of the palace, explained will, was something to be appreciated. Lo had hummed and acquiesced against the man’s hungry lips. They’d eventually made it into the royal wing, and down the long hallway to Lo’s door. Neither saw the shadow detaching from the wall until it was too late.

‘My, what a late hour to be retiring,’ came the throaty voice of the Mage Queen of Eldath. Lo froze dead in his tracks, while Will somehow remembered to drop into the lowest bow he could muster with wind still addling his sense of balance. Their hands broke apart with a snap, but not before the Queen’s shrewd milky eyes landed to their entwined fingers. Lo felt the bottom fall out of his stomach, but kept his expression school, his glare stony.

‘Exalted,’ he acknowledged with a small nod denoting of his station, ‘it is rather surprising to find you still out as well.’

‘Yes well, sleep eluded me.’

‘I’m quite sorry to hear,’ replied Lo evenly, his chin rising, shoulders straightening. Will stood at his elbow, eyes trained to the ground and no higher. ‘I just finished with directing the dismantling of the ball room. Captain Tyldree here was just walking me to my quarters. One cannot be too cautious with so many guests about.’

‘Yes,’ she hummed, ‘of course.’ Her abnormally pale complexion seemed translucent in the lamp light, moreover affected by the gauzy white nightgown she wore around her brittle frame. Alone in the dark hallway, she looked little more than a lost child, but her clear eyes held an ancient power that invited no question.

‘Might I escort you somewhere your grace?’ stepped in Will, eyes still trained to the floor. Though Lo abhorred the idea of Will alone with the witch, it was expected of his station and rank.

‘No, that won’t be necessary,’ she said, and Lo managed to hide the relief that assaulted him. If Eldath’s probing eyes caught it, her expression didn’t betray it. Instead, a small smile carved itself into the corner of her mouth. ‘I thought I might go for a walk. Perhaps in the gardens? I head your gardeners recently put together a lovely wildflower arrangement.’

‘Yes,’ answered Lo, surprises by her seemingly pleasant tone. ‘They are quite lovely.’

‘Wonderful, I shall take my leave then,’ she said, stepping out and around them in a flurry of silk and grace. Will bowed again, and Lo nodded belatedly, caught off guard by her sudden departure. She’d taken two steps, and Lo had started to let his guard down, when the Queen turned back. ‘And Oslo,’ she called.

‘Yes, your grace?’ he turned to her. She was nothing more than a ghost against the dark hallway, a spectre from a dream, or nightmare.

‘Wonderful work with the negotiations with Lord Halstead’s son.’ She said, tone sickly sweet.

’Oh. Thank you.’ Lo nodded, unsure why she’d chosen that moment to bring it up, let alone applaud him. The whole conversation was leaving a bitter after taste in his mouth. Eldath simply smiled, coy, and turned to leave.

‘I never would have thought to use his dalliances against him. Truly a daring move,’ she said, and melted into the darkness.

Will rose from his bow. Lo didn’t move from his frozen position, staring off after the Queen, his mind trying to work through the haze of wine to the piece he was missing. Will shook him slightly, a heavy hand on his shoulder, and Lo jerked out of his stupor, shaking his head.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked, worry tugging at his downturned lips. Lo waved aside his concern with a smile that fooled neither of them.

‘Yes, sorry, darling. Just something she said.’

They parted at Lo’s door, they embrace too short, but both on edge after the sudden appearance of the Queen. Will left with the ghost of Lo’s lips against his, and Lo shut the door to his quarters with a heavy heart. He churned the conversation with the Queen around his mind again, replaying it, even after the warmth of Will’s arms had been eclipsed by the chill of his rooms. His temple had started to throb, the wine working it’s way through his system like lead in his veins. Lo walked over to his desk where a pitcher of water had been left by a maid earlier that day. He poured himself a healthy amount, and brought the goblet to his lips, swallowing avidly. The cool water cleared his thoughts like a knife through fog.

_I head your gardeners recently put together a lovely wildflower arrangement._

Lo swallowed heavily, frowning down at the shallow pool in his goblet. The Queen’s tone had been so delicate, so relaxed. Yet it had grated against Lo’s ears, like every other false nicety he’d come to recognize.

_I never would have thought to use his dalliances against him._

His grip tightened around the goblet, the encrusted stones digging into the skin of his palm. Eldath wasn’t one to hand out compliments freely, least of all to him. She was wicked, she was… Vengeful. She’d been toying with him.

_Truly a daring move._

The goblet fell from Lo’s hand, clattering against the ground like canon fire in the dead of night, sending water splashing across the marble. Lo didn’t even notice, suddenly stone cold sober. She’d been playing with him. His mind ran a mile a minute, his thoughts falling over each other in their rush to come to the singular, terribly, conclusion: she’d been savouring a victory.


	50. Nighttime Departure

Will,

Eldath knows. That bog witch knows about us. And it’s more than that. She’s been intercepting our letters before we’ve been receiving them. She knew that downright stealing them would be too dangerous and would just alert both of us, so somehow, she found a way to just peak at the content. Probably paid off some of our messengers, slimy traitors. That’s how she knew we’d been at the wild flower gardens tonight, during the ball. Which means she’s probably seen all of our recent letters, if not the entirety of the missives we’ve sent to each other. And she's gonna do something about it. Tonight. She wouldn’t have said anything about the gardens if she hadn’t planned her move already. She wouldn’t have revealed her hand if she wasn’t confident that she's going to win. So, we need to leave. Now. Grab anything you can and meet me at the wild flower gardens. They’re private enough and we can slip directly into town from a small exit there. Plus, hopefully Eldath has figured we won’t be returning to the scene of the crime.

Make haste darling. We are on borrowed time.

I love you Will. Irrevocably so.

Your Lo


	51. Moments Before, Moments After

Lo finished scribbling the letter, his slightly inebriated mind slowing him down considerably. He reached for the hot wax to seal the parchment but misjudged how tipsy he still was. His arm hit the small flame and molten wax went flying all over the floor of his chambers. Deciding there was no time to restart the process, he begrudgingly reached for a pin on his desk and skewered the letter through and through, holding it closed for the time being. With impeccable timing came the soft knock at his door.

‘Exalted, you wanted to see me at once?’ came a familiar voice outside. Lo’s heart skipped a beat for a second as he rushed to open the door, cracking it only ever so slightly open, but the face he saw reminded him that he had asked the servant to fetch Fidel, one of the Naeve and a close friend, not the one who’s safety he deemed at risk tonight. Not the Naeve Captain who had held him so tenderly but hours ago, the echo of his fingers still on Lo’s cheeks, the distant memory of his arms around his waist.

‘Yes, I did.’ the prince slurred lightly. ‘Fidel, this is a matter of immediate importance, do you understand?’ Lo waited till the soldier gave a quick nod to confirm he had heard him. ‘You are to head to Captain Tyldree’s chambers at once and give this to him.’ The prince handed Fidel with a shaky hand the modge podge letter he had concocted in the last few minutes. ‘Under no circumstances are you to be diverted from your course, do you understand me? Head straight there as fast as you can. Do you understand me?’ Lo could hear the desperation in his voice and saw it reflected in the worried look Fidel gave him.

‘Of course Exalted, but what is this about if I may-’

‘There’s no time Fidel!’ the prince said, his voice cracking. ‘Go, now! And try to remain unseen. She’ll know we’ll be planning something…’ Lo watched the confused expression on Fidel’s face resolve into something like determination before the soldier excused himself with a small bow and ran down the corridor away from the light spooling out of the prince’s chambers. Closing the door with a sigh, Lo slid to the floor. Resting his head in his hands, he breathed deeply, trying desperately to recenter himself, to gain control over the panic that was blossoming in his stomach. He knew he had minutes at most before the royal guard would be making a guest appearance in his doorway, ready to escort him to the Mage Queens. He knew there was little chance he could escape in that time. But he could stall. He could distract. They’d come for him first. He knew that. He knew it because Eldath would find a way to blame him and only him. Blame it on the horns and the blue skin and the golden eyes. Blame it on the fiendish heritage. She’d make it seem like he enchanted Will. He knew that. They’d come and collect him first and foremost, and upon having the Demon Prince in their custody, they’d go for his ‘most devoted bed servant’ next. But if he could make a scene, talk them all into a stupor, there was a chance that letter would reach Will before the guards could. And if one of them was going to escape, it was going to be him.

Lo got up and looked about his room. He saw the spilled wax, which had now coalesced and hardened against the wood floor next to his desk. He saw his bed, still made as he had not even had the chance to slip into after the ball. He saw his cabinet, full of clothing from various parts of the Isles, in all shades of black, white and gold. His gaze fell on the top shelf, where long stretches of cloth hung loosely, spare materials for any clothes that needed adjustments. And then he remembered. The letters. He had stashed all of Will’s letters there, hidden deep behind all the cloth where he knew no one would go looking. But when the guards would come… They’d turn his room inside out. They would find the letters. They would be looking for them no doubt, Eldath hoping to use them against him in whatever sick version of a trial she no doubt had prepared. He would not give her the satisfaction. With quick steps, Lo made his way to the open cabinet, and reaching upwards, dumped all of the cloth onto the floor. Piles of gold satin and black velvet fell past him. Standing on his tippy toes, he reached for the back of the now empty shelf. His fingertips brushed against the soft leather of a small box and with a grasp, he pulled it down. Sitting himself on the bed, he opened the small container. The sight of the countless crumpled parchment envelopes set his heart ablaze. He ran his fingers along each of them, the yellowed paper under his touch mirroring the deep skin he had held between his hands mere moments ago. But it was not time for reminiscing now. With a harried gaze, Lo looked about his room, searching for a hiding place that would conceal these letters from the prying eyes of the guards. His eyes fell on one of his open windows, the curtains around it gently floating in the soft breeze that came from outside. He thought back to his youth and the countless jewelry he would steal from the other nobles. He’d always hide his prize possessions behind a loose brick on the outer wall of the palace. Perfect.

Swiftly striding to the windowsill, the prince popped his head outside. There it was. One of the bricks on the left stuck out almost imperceptibly. To anyone who didn’t know about it, it looked like one of those desired imperfections you’d want on a castle wall. To him, it was salvation. Reaching, he unhooked the brick from its alcove. Behind it was a few small silver rings and a flattened brooch that came from some other province no doubt. To think he ever had a silver phase. Grabbing the jewelry, he dumped it to the bushes of the palace grounds below, and with his other hand, scooped the letters out of the leather box. Shoving them in the empty alcove, he took one last longing look at them before replacing the brick. He heard the sound of crushing parchment, but disregarded it solemnly. After all, crumpled dilapidated letters were better than fresh ones used to find you guilty in court. His task accomplished, he turned back to his room and took notice of the mess he had made : piles of cloth laid unorganized on the floor near the cabinet, the leather box had been thrown in a corner, desk supplies had fallen to the ground when he’d spilled the wax. He just had time to quickly tidy up before he heard the footsteps in the corridor, heading right for his rooms. The clinking of armor resounded outside his chambers as a knock assaulted his door, this time much more aggressive than before. And sitting on his bed, performing his best noble disinterest, Lo thought : _So it has begun…_

***

The walls of his cell were cold, encasing him on all sides with the frigid indifference stone provides so well. Slick with dew, the rocks glistened in the faint torchlight that came through the bars, originating from somewhere down the corridor. The humidity in the small space was oppressing, his shirt now soaked because of it. Or maybe it was all the sweat from the panic. Or maybe the tears. Gods, the tears. He’d cried more than he had thought possible, until his very being begged him for relief. He’d still be crying, only impossibly so, it seemed he had consumed all the water in his body. No doubt he would die from dehydration before dawn. But no matter. He had already died. When he had heard those words escape Will’s lips. That wretched confession. Eldath would pay for that. He knew Will to be a man of great willpower and strength, but surely even he couldn’t resist a Mage Queen’s magic. She had forced every single one of those lies from his mouth and had made Lo watch the whole thing. Made him stand there, shackled, as his lover, the one man who had convinced him that love was worth it, spun this tale of devilish dark arts performed by the Prince that had seduced and charmed him into this relationship. He knew Will meant none of it, that it was just Eldath’s magic that had made him say these awful things. But Lo couldn’t help it. It had felt so _real_. So raw. When the words had stopped, when Will had lifted his gaze to Lo’s, head bowed in shame… Lo had been _angry_. Terribly so. He knew that his anger, this fury had been irrational. But he couldn’t help it. And now, he bore the shame, the guilt that the last look he had given Will, and would maybe ever give him again, had been one of outrage. Not one of love, or hope that despite all this, they would see each other again. No. Only the cold eyes of rage. And so, the tears came again in the frigid cell.

Sobbing softly in one of the musty corners of the room, his body shaking from the drop in temperature, Lo barely heard the latch of a door unbolting down the corridor. At the sound, he spun his head to the bars of his cell. A light was approaching. The Mages Queens had said his punishment would be carried out at dawn. Perhaps Eldath had grown impatient and she was coming to finish him off herself. But no, the face that appeared was more pleasantly familiar.

'Fidel?’ whispered Lo. The man drew his hood back a little to reveal his worried eyes, which looked up and down the corridor. ‘What are you doing here?’ The soldier was carrying a torch, which now illuminated the entirety of Lo’s cell, highlighting the dirty cot on one side of the room and the small rat that had apparently made a nest on the side of it. The prince swiftly got up and saw another light coming down the hallway. This time, the hooded figure that marched in front of the bars made him gasp for breath.

‘…Will?’ the prince said, his voice catching in his throat. The man threw back his hood and there he was. His captain. Tears were streaming down his face but Lo barely noticed them as he ran to the bars. Thought the metal rods were quite large and close together, both men managed to squeeze their arms through and hold each other in a desperate embrace. Lo pressed his cheek to Will’s chest through one of the openings and could feel his rapid breathing. Clearly, this was an illicit midnight visit which would not be lasting long.

‘Oh gods Lo. Are you okay?’ he heard Will say, or rather felt the words rise through his rib cage.

‘Peachy.’ Lo replied with a dry chuckle. Will gave a little snort at that. Pushing away from the captain, Lo looked into the eyes of the man he loved. Stared into those amber pools of caramel and chocolate and freshly turned earth.

‘Darling, Wilhelm…I’m so sorry.’ Lo said, crying once again against his own volition. His words came between harried breaths and small hiccups. ‘I’m sorry you saw me like that, I’m sorry you had to see that anger in me. It wasn’t against you darling, I swear! I know it wasn’t your fault, I know it was Eldath’s magic but something just came over me and I couldn’t, I- I just-’ The softest touch of Will’s lips on his promptly ended his shame spiral. Lo relished the feeling, leaned into the other man, desperate to relinquish himself to his captain’s embrace. The clinging sound of his horns hitting the bars cut their kiss short. The metallic noise echoed down the corridor, Fidel standing to attention. No longer preoccupied with Will’s mouth, Lo noticed the other Naeve soldier at the very end of the corridor, guarding the door, no doubt Gasbrought. All of them stood still as the bang winked out of existence, ears peering for the sound of boots heading for the dungeons. But no such sound came. Will’s gaze fell back to Lo’s, and after a brief pause and the cheeky raise of an eyebrow, both men laughed quietly into the shadows of the hallway.

‘Subtlety was never you forte, wasn’t it.’ Will whispered, wiping his thumb on the prince’s blue cheek where tear stains had formed.

‘And restraint never was yours evidently.’ replied Lo with a bittersweet grin. The Naeve captain tilted the prince’s head up before absentmindedly tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear, as he had done countless times before.

‘Lo…’ said Will. ‘We promised we would never apologize to each other ever again. You had every right to be angry my love.’ He said it with such understanding and adoration in his eyes that Lo couldn’t help the welling of tears that threatened to spill onto his face once more. Burying his head into Will’s chest again, Lo took a rattling breath, conscious of the fact that the captain’s shirt was now as soaked as his.

‘Wilhem Tyldree… I love you, you blithering oaf.’ shakily muttered Lo into his lover’s garments.

‘I love you too Lo. More than you can ever imagine.’ he heard Will respond and felt the man’s arms tighten around him. Out of the corner of his eye, the prince saw the light of Fidel’s torch shift towards the end of the hall. ‘But I’m afraid our time is up my love.’ Lo’s head snapped up immediately, searching Will’s eyes for the answer to the unspoken question between them. He found only sorrow and anguish in the bronze irises that once held such joy and love.

‘Don’t worry Lo. This is not the end for us.’ said Will with a pained smile. The prince remarked the tears that were gently gliding down the other man’s face, making the dark skin glisten in the dim light, and with painful confusion, realized he had never seen Will cry before. ‘We will see each other again. Not even the gods can keep us apart.’ And before Lo could contest Will’s departure, before he could utter a single word, he felt once again the familiar feeling of his captain’s mouth against his. Thinking his could be his last kiss with Will, Lo let himself fully fall into it, giving in to the burning passion that threatened to consume him from the inside like a blazing inferno. Both men kissed with the desperation of lovers spurned, crossed that they had only fleeting moments together before it was all over, angry that the world dared to deny them of such love. And then it was over. Lo felt the cool air of the dungeons hit his lips, and as he opened his eyes, they were gone. Fidel, Gasbrought… Will. It was like they had never been here in the first place. There was no trace of their arrival, nor of their exit. Lo almost thought he had imagined the whole thing when he felt the small piece of parchment which had been pushed into his hand during their kiss. Looking down, he saw a letter addressed to him, unmistakably in Will’s handwriting. The punctuation to their story, the epilogue to their narrative. The last piece of Will he would ever have. One last letter.


	52. One Last Letter

Lo, my love,

I know we promised to never again apologize for our faults, but I find myself incapable of thinking of anything other than the words “I’m sorry” endlessly, like ghostly echoed within the confines of my mind. A thousand times, over and over, as if any amount of remorse would ever wash away the stain of your undoing from my soul. I’m so sorry Lo, you knew all along the risks, you tried to warn me, but I was foolish enough to believe us untouchable. Your love made me fearless, it made me invincible. But, like Icarus I flew too close to the sun in your eyes without caution for the heat of your smoulder and now I don’t fall alone, sun scorched and feather full, but I drag you down with me. Everything you have worked towards, your title, your respect, I have dragged into the untold depths of this ocean in which we drown together, a mess of limbs and broken wings and I am so sorry.

Lo, the words have burned themselves onto my tongue like a brand, and I shall carry them with every words and every order. Never will I know a respite from the bitter aftertaste of our last kiss in the blissful ignorance of what the Fates have pulled. My love, I am consumed, by a white hot rage that knows no bounds, I am overcome by the overwhelming urge to burn everything into a singular white hot flame, and dance in it’s flickering light until all is reduced to ash and nothing can touch you. Thouch us. Lo, however, if you will excuse me this fault - out of the many I shoulder and you have already forgiving, give me simply this one more - I am mortal. My flesh bleeds this wretched blood and this body confines me and my rage. While my mind rampages the Isles, I am shackled. Moreover, I am weak.

The Queen’s magic seared across the scarlet rivers under my skin and overcame me until my mouth was no my own, you know this, but again, and again, I shall apologize, for even if you do forgive me, I see no way to forgive myself. Lo, my love, my one and only love to whom I owe a world and a half, and everything I am, the ink on this page could dance into a thousand words and still it would not even begin to encompass what you mean to me. I am sickened by the thought that even if our secret was till safe, and the years uncounted, the time unimportant, I would never be able to make you understand what you make me feel. Lo, I love you. With all that I am, more than the rage and fury, more than the fire which consumes my every waking moment since you were torn from my arms - and which will not die until you are returned to them, because heed my words, my love, the Gods themselves cannot stand between us - more than the magic which makes me into a puppet, I love you. Nothing in this world could change that universal truth, and I will go into hell with it carved into my soul, your love staining my lips, and a smile on my goddamn face. I love you.

And I will never leave you.

I know things seem impossible now, as the entirety of the Isles rises up against us, but if our late night strategy sessions have taught either of us anything, is there is always an alternative, always a plan no one else has considered. Though the odds might be against us, I am nothing if not a tenacious fool, and you are the best of reasons to attempt the craziest of plans. My love, I would tear down the sky and let it fall onto the Queen’s Meet for you, but I guess running away with you will have to do. Remember what we used to speak of, in the dead of night, our arms around one another. I whispered into your hair that we should run away, and you agreed, drunk off my touch. Of course, it was nothing but a dream, a mirage of an oasis after months in the arid deserts of court, but when the echoing apologies dim, all I hear is the murmur of your words, acquiescing to mine. Lo, I am nothing without you, title, rank, let it all be damned. You are everything and more than I could ever need, could ever want. Lo, be mine.

The Queens will not let you return to Lathander. I’ve heard whispers from the other Naeve, and all seem sure you will be branded and sent to the Outskirts. It seems loving me is a capital crime. Good thing I’ve always found a rebellious streak rather charming. You’ll never be able to return to the Isles, you won’t be a prince anymore, but, if you will have me, Lo, we could be together. I’m being stationed at the Western Outpost, beyond the Wystir Mountains. The Queens want the public outcry to die out as quickly as possible, and sending me to the far reaches seems the bare minimum solution. I ride out at dawn.

I’m sure you’re smart enough to put together the plan now, between these words and the compass I’ve enclosed. Lo, my love, we’ve studied these maps for hours on end, you know the roads and trade routes, every pass, every ridge. The Outskirts are impassable, deadly to the unexperienced. Stick close to the mountains, find shelter and food. If you can disguise yourself, do so. It is always safer to travel under an assumed name. Avoid other merchants and travellers as best you can, but if in need, ask for help. I know you’ve never seen the Front, but your name holds weight there, even tarnished. The Outer lands have been safer since you’ve assumed power, and the Glowing Hands Guild have members throughout them. Use Yva’s name, you’ve earned it. Trade your jewelry for clothes and a weapon, a dagger preferably. I love your mouth, but for the love of all that is good, do not let it run. You have a tendency to get into trouble. Wait for me, then we can get into any bar brawl that you want. But please, my love, wait for me.

Travel North as far as you can, until you seen the Isles flags above the tree line. There is a clearing south of the outpost, near a small stream. It serves as a summer training ground for the forces stationed there, but is rarely if ever used. I will be waiting, every day. I’ll hide aget-away bag in the nearby trees, and we can make our escape as soon as you arrive. I’m not yet sure where we’ll go. Yva could help us assume new identities, and we could live on the front. Or attempt to make our way in the Outskirts, I’ve heard stories of people who’ve done it. There are legends of lands to the North that are safe even from the Dagroth. We’ll never be able to come back, Lo, but with you at least, I’ll have a home.

Come to me, for I await you with every batted breath, with every fluttering heartbeat. I will not calm until I set my eyes on you again. I will spend every waking moment thinking of our return to one another, every sleepless night at the mercy of my memories of your touch, your smell, your taste. I dream of lavender curls and honey lips. I pray to which ever God will let you melt on my tongue again the soonest. Time is a bastardly thing, but I promise it will bow to my will. Lo, my love, return to me.

Nothing holds us back anymore, my love. Not titles, not responsibility. We are unbound, we are invincible.

Meet me by the stream.

All yours, and more,

Will

PS: Memorize this letter, then burn it. No one must know of our plans. Just one more secret, my love, than I promise you a life full of nothing but honesty and laughter. If I could paint the skies with your smile… Lo, I love you more, and so much more. I cannot live another day without the Gods knowing of my eternal devotion, without the world knowing of my love. If we don’t need to hide it anymore, than I don’t want to hid it at all. Lo, my love, will you marry me?

I will be waiting for your answer by the stream.

Burn the letter. Stay safe. Stay alive.


End file.
